


Pain Response

by brokenlibrarygirl



Series: Trauma [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual John Watson, Depression, Doctor Watson, Language, M/M, Overprotective Mycroft, Parental Lestrade, Rating May Change, References to Past Drug Use, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Slow Build, Temporary Amnesia, Unaired Pilot Sherlock, mystrade, tags to be added later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlibrarygirl/pseuds/brokenlibrarygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I found a prompt on tumblr and saved it in my google docs. It has been months since I have looked at it, but here it is:</p><p>Amnesia!lock AU: Sherlock and John first meet after Sherlock is in an accident, and loses his memory. John, his doctor, is the only one who doesn't expect anything of him other than to get better. The two bond, and fall in love after Sherlock is released. But the entire time John is worried he's taking advantage of an injured patient, and that Sherlock won't love him when he regains his "real life." Sherlock regains his memory, but hides it because he's worried John wont love the "real him"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. incoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EllieSaxon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieSaxon/gifts).



It had been a normal Tuesday, boring, bland, non stressful. No one was recovering from the weekend binge, nobody faking sickness to avoid work, boring, quiet, dull. The sands of Afghanistan were terribly tempting in the quiet hours of a London Tuesday, but the moment of the round exploding in a shoulder, the festering infection, the loneliness of an orphaned son creeps in.

“Oi...Watson...incoming closed head injury. Male patient...38 years old...mild malnutrition...evidence of past intravenous drug use...assault.” the charge nurse barks in his direction. 

John flings his stethoscope over his neck and charges towards the er as his new patient is wheeled in. He’s deathly pale in his dark coat and suit. He doesn’t look like a drug user, but his thin frame and dark circles under his eyes tell otherwise. 

“Mate...hmm...can you hear me?” John asks rubbing his knuckles over the man’s sternum hoping to rouse him with a pain response. There is nothing. His heartbeat is slow but regular, breaths sluggish. John tries again the pressure on the man’s sternum harder. “Come on…” he mutters and a labored gasp emits from the man.

“Ok now can you hear me?” John glances at one of the nurses.

“Sherlock” she mutters 

“Sherlock? Hey...can you open your eyes?!” John gasps adjusting the IV to push more fluid. He takes the man’s blood pressure. A groan emits from the man before him and John sighs. There is some response from the patient, perhaps this wouldn’t end as terribly as he expected. Sherlock’s blood pressure is low but heart rate is consistent, he checks his eyes. Pinpoint pupils, damn….. He gets the man’s blood pressure stabilized, he’s breathing on his own, and he is still responding to pain stimuli. 

“Call neuro for a full CT head scan.” John barks. He tests his other reflexes to see if there is any damage to the spinal column.

“Doctor Watson” a voice demands from behind him.

“What is it?” he growls as he adjust the bedrails for transport.  
“My brother is clean. Has been for six months. No need for narcotics testing. This is work related injury if that all helps.” the overdressed man says quietly.

“That is helpful to know. Any allergies or underlying conditions I need to know about him? Your brother most likely has a hematoma and any medication will cause complications.”

“Nothing. Clean as I said. Sherlock loves puzzles and danger. CDI Lestrade will be able to fill you in on any details you may need.” the man smirks as he turns towards the open area in a slight gesture towards the waiting room. John looks to see several anxious members of the Yard milling about. A pained huff of breath escapes the man under his hands.

“Sherlock? can you hear me?” he asks again, and check his pupil response. Nothing has changed and he pulls the gurney towards the elevators that will take him to neuro.


	2. Discomfort

When he is in the trauma unit his leg doesn’t bother him. He moves without pain and hesitation, but as soon as his blood pressure lowers, his adrenaline subsides, his respiration returns to resting, the pain returns.

John shifts to sit at the nurses station, a flush at his ears everytime he has to rest his leg. The nurses never comment, they just shift their things wordlessly and let him. The kind, quiet man is one of their favorite doctors they work with, they want to keep him happy. He’s reading through the admission paperwork to determine what brought the man with the head injury, half a squad of yarders, and the overly dressed brother. His patient is currently in imaging receiving not only a head CT but a MRI as well.

Patient admitted with closed head injury caused during a work related experience. Patient was having a seizure when found by a coworker. The coworker, Gregory Lestrade stated he thinks he was hit with a bottle as there was broken glass near the patient.

He orders an electroencephalogram to see if Sherlock has had any more episodes since admission, and decides to find the brother. 

He finds the man glaring at another man across the waiting room and catches a growled responsibility..

“Ah Mr. Holmes?” John asks nodding at him eyebrows raised.

“Doctor Watson? How is my brother?” the man glares back at him. His knuckles white against the handle of the umbrella. John shakes himself from the intense gaze of both men now. 

“Well, uherm, your brother is going through several diagnostic tests. He’s yet to regain full consciousness.” the brother raises his hand to stop the nervous doctor.

“ **Sherlock** is my only living brother, **you will** spare me the unnecessary details and tell me his prognosis” 

“Mycroft, Jesus, he was” the other man mutters with a clenched jaw and a hand through his hair.

“Yes, ah well, his vitals are stable. The pressure in his brain will alleviated with a crainiotomy. The tests we are currently running will give us more information about the extent of the possible damage to his brain. When and if he regains consciousness, we will know more. I’m sorry, that is all we know right now.” John says shuffling closer to seemingly kinder of the two men.

“ **You will** share the results with me as soon as you have them, and notify me of my brother’s status. Gregory, this is none of your concern go home and take your team with you. You and I will talk of this when I no longer want to end your existance on this earth” Mycroft Holmes scowls at the other man. John takes several steps back as the gray haired man jumps from his chair and leans menacingly towards Sherlock’s brother.

“I care about him too Mycroft, don’t you dare think otherwise. THIS is not my fault. I’ll go find the man who almost ended the greatest mind of London.” the man hissed.

John has frozen in place. He was used to the emotional families he had seen over the years. The families he had to tell their loved ones were gone, his comrades in arms’ spouses he had to tell that their soldiers weren’t coming home, but this was different. The greatest mind of London, a brother threatening the life of an officer in the presence of many witnesses. Who was Sherlock Holmes?

“Sit down Doctor Watson before you fall down.” Mycroft mutters with a sigh.

“I’m going to stop you right there Mr. Holmes I have just had about enough of you telling me what to do. I do not enjoy you threatening members of law enforcement nor the assumption I need to sit down...,” John growls. Before he can continue beeper alerts him that the test results are ready, “your brother’s results are in I.. need..” 

“Go, I will be here. It is psychosomatic, you need a better therapist” Mycroft mutters rubbing his eyes.

“Excuse me?” John stops angy.

“Go Dr. Watson, save my brother, it is what you do for a living isn’t it?” Mycroft says softly, his stare unwavering.


	3. Accursed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock finally wakes up and John is immediately fascinated by the man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine unaired pilot Sherlock, a little quicker to smile, quicker to flirt, denim wearing Sherlock Holmes. Whatever happened to him at nineteen years old made him delete relationships and feelings. (I promise it isn't sexual assault)

Twang, crash,

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” a shout echoed down the corridor.

The sound of metal against linoleum and the shout jolts John’s head from his never ending paperwork. It had been several hours since the mysterious man had come in with head injury and equally mysterious brother. He rose quickly to investigate trying not to get run over by the security personnel that were heading the same direction.

“For God’s sake why am I here! What happened to me? I won’t let you people experiment on me again!!” a strained deep voice asks. He turns the corner to the room to see his patient backed into a corner holding the guest chair to keep nurses and security away.

“Mr. Holmes calm down please get back into bed” the nurse Gloria pleads holding her hands up.

“Not until someone with half a brain who isn’t sleeping with most of the male nursing staff tells me why I am here and why….why...your ID is dated 2014” Sherlock squints at the badge on the closest guard, a little of the fight draining from him with a slight tilt of the head.

“Sherlock? You’re currently in the nuero ward of the Royal London hospital, you were assaulted by an unknown assailant. If you...you .. touch your head there, you’ve had a serious head injury.” John says calmly gesturing to right above his ear, inching as close as he can. He watches Sherlock sway a bit as his hand finds the shaved and stitched area on his head. John puts out a hand to keep the guard back, “Do you think you could put the chair down?”

“I...need...to…” and Sherlock slurs and slumps across the bed, chair clattering on it’s side.

“Get him up on the bed properly, restrain his arms.” John swiftly takes vitals and check’s Sherlock’s head. He doesn’t appear to have re injured himself, he restarts the IV.

“Prick” Gloria mutters.

“He’s obviously having some degree of disorientation and memory loss. What he says can only be taken as gibberish” John mutters noting the incident in the chart, “can you explain what led up to this?”

“I was watching the eeg at the station and noticed that he was showing signs of waking. I made it to the doorway just as his eyes flew open. He yanked out the IV and shouted Mycroft. Threw the kidney tray and that’s when you walked in.”

“He didn’t say anything else?”

“He was muttering something about ‘bastian and it was too bright”

“Ok, he’s restrained and his vitals are stable.” John checks the eeg tape again to see where his patient’s brain function was at this point. He looked like he was just in a deep restful sleep, “hopefully when he wakes up again it will be for longer. Please alert me if anything changes.”

Sherlock’s questions about why he was in the hospital were very concerning. What had happened to him to think that they would experiment on him. How did he know anything about Gloria, everyone knew she was making rounds around the staff, but you couldn’t tell that with just a brief look. The greatest mind of London thought it was 1995, that was going to be a cold and harsh reality. John thought back to his 23 year-old self and cringed to imagine himself in his patient’s shoes, to wake up older, broken, past his prime. Sherlock was quite handsome, so he wouldn’t have that problem, but still the culture shock would be something. John looked in on his other patients and an hour later a flushed Gloria taps him on the shoulder,

“John your prick patient is asking for you?”

“Right, thank you Gloria. Try to be respectful of the patients if you can. Even if they aren’t of you” John says spinning on his heel and heading toward Sherlock’s room.

“Ah Mr. Holmes it is good to see you awake, are you going to be polite this time?” John asks with a smile.

“fffff not likely” Sherlock mutters eyes staying half lidded. John adjusts the lights lower.

“Good, sense of humor still there. I’m Doctor John Watson, I’ve restrained you because you got a bit violent there the last time.. I’ll undo them if you promise to keep the furniture where it belongs” John smiles as he watches for a response.

“Please. I won’t...can’t..do anything.” he sighs. John undoes the restraints and stands back.

“Now I’m going to ask you a couple of questions then you can rest some more. Will that be alright?” John asks.

“How bout I answer them now. My name Sherlock Holmes I believe my age to be 19 but in actuality I am currently 38, I retain most of my factual knowledge, but my personal knowledge and any personal and historical events of the last 19 years are gone. The last thing I remember clearly is that I had a chemistry exam and I was on the way to take it. Question, do we still have troops in Iraq, or is your tan from Yugoslavia?” Sherlock enumerates holding eye contact with John.

“Ok then,” John chuckles, “well yes we still have troops in Iraq but I served in Afghanistan. That is quite impressive for a head trauma. How are you feeling otherwise?”

“Afghanistan again, really? Opium would do well for my head I think.” Sherlock winces reaching up for the injury, “my hairrr” he whines.

“We’ve got better meds than that now. It will grow back don’t worry. Now a couple more questions” John presses on.

“It looks like I...had some issues...intravenous drug use. That’s a bit troubling.” Sherlock says running a finger along the well healed track marks.

“You’re brother mentioned that you have been clean for six months. We ran a blood panel to confirm, and we will try to steer clear of opiates. Now do you feel any pain anywhere else, your back, joints?” John asks taking a note of Sherlock’s body language.

“Mycroft is here? God save us all, I feel like i’ve been hit by a large vehicle, did I have a seizure, might explain my memory loss” Sherlock closes his eyes.

“Are you sure you weren’t a medical student?” John laughs.

“Muscle aches, paired with memory loss and a head injury. Seizure is the best explanation.”

“Amazing”

“If you think so _doctor_ …” Sherlock smirks.

“Well Sherlock, most people don’t know that seizures can cause amnesia, but the officer you were working with did call you the greatest mind of London. Now are you up to see your brother?”

“If I must. Did the officer arrest me?”

“I believe you were working with him. I’ll get your brother”

“I wasn’t wrong about the nurse either. She does more shagging than work around here” Sherlock smiles at him, eyebrow raised.

“Jesus that’s...God I’d better get out of here before you figure out the color of my pants” John says turning to leave.

“Clothing’s too thick!” Sherlock calls after him. 

John shakes his head and smiles all too widely to himself as he makes his way to the waiting room. ‘Keep it in your trousers Watson, you’re better than that.’ John thinks to himself.

“Ah Mr. Holmes? Your brother is awake now” John says confidently as he can in the face of the imposing figure sitting upright in the intentionally uncomfortable chairs.

“Yes doctor, how is he?” Mycroft Holmes asks with a raised eyebrow and shit eating smirk.

“Well with patients who are admitted with a severe head injuries as well as seizure activity it comes with a possibility of memory loss. Your brother believes that it is 1995. He…” John stops and stares at the hand that is up in his face again.

“Doctor Watson, may I see my brother now?” Mycroft grumbles.

“Follow me. Now you may not respect me or anything that I might say to you, but please do not pressure your brother to remember things. He remembers you, and a lot of his factual knowledge. He knows that he amnesiatic, please try to be pleasant if you can.”

“The potential loss of my brother was more than I could bear. I think I can treat him with kindness since he is probably in quite a lot of pain, for a recovering opiate addict.”

“Well since that is agreed, here we are” John says gesturing into Sherlock’s room.

The two men are greeted with a rolling of eyes from Sherlock.

“My God you’ve gotten fat.” Sherlock blurts. John has to turn away from the two brothers to hide his amusement and fascination with his patient.

“Charming as ever, brother mine.” Mycroft sighs. 

“So Mycroft, why was I with a member of Scotland Yard?” Sherlock asks.

“All in due time Sherlock, you weren’t there in a suspicious capacity” Mycroft murmurs. John watches the older man’s eyes drift over the form of his brother, assessing, cataloging, “what else you remember Sherlock?”

“As I told Doctor Watson, I was on the way to a chemistry exam. I think, I think I might have been with someone. MY GOD THIS IS INTOLERABLE!” Sherlock shouts pulling at what is left of his dark curls.

“Hey Sherlock, lets try to keep your blood pressure down. Mr. Holmes why don’t we let your brother rest and you can finish your visit tomorrow?” John says standing between Mycroft and Sherlock. Mycroft’s eyes dart between the doctor and his brother and he nods.

“Sherlock til tomorrow, sleep well brother.” he says quietly, “Dr. Watson a word?”

John nods and smiles at Sherlock before he leaves to join the other Holmes in the hallway. 

“Doctor Watson, I would tread carefully around my brother. As I recall my nineteen year-old brother was quite the flirtatious manipulator. I would think that your career wouldn’t take kindly to a citation of improper conduct” Mycroft sneers.

“No trouble there Mr. Holmes. I always maintain professional conduct and not that it is any of your business, but I have a girlfriend.” John says standing as tall as he can.

“Of course, what was I thinking” Mycroft chuckles and walks away.

John has to shake himself mentally as well as physically. He’s gathered that the elder Holmes brother is quite the powerful man, and his fascination with the younger Holmes brother would just be that, an admiration, a fascination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit on me on Tumblr, I reblog a lot of fan art, Benedict Cumberbatch, and fic recs. 
> 
> [brokenlibrarygirl](http://brokenlibrarygirl.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
>  


	4. Smarting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregory Lestrade fills in some gaps and Molly Hooper visits during Sherlock's recovery. John and Sherlock have formed a delicate friendship that Mycroft has no tolerance of.

Over several days Sherlock recovers. He sleeps a lot he freaks out every time someone brings a new piece of technology into the room. When his brother visits he always has to be given something to sleep later. 

John checks on him periodically to see how he is doing and always stays for brief conversations that cover advances in the medical field, any interesting patients, and the general day to day workings of a hospital doctor. John always looks forward to checking up on Sherlock Holmes, the man is smart, funny, and just his male type: tall, dark haired, and with light eyes. He may be dating Sarah at the moment but she is keeping him at an arms length as far as the physical part of their relationship goes and they weren’t anything serious. 

Sherlock was intrigued by the doctor in charge of his care. He was always smiling, yet Sherlock could see the pain and embarrassment over his limping. His doctor always changed the subject when he would be at a loss about a time period that he had forgotten or a name he should have known. Doctor Watson was alway gentle in his touch and in his corrections about who was part of the royal family at the time. His doctor was the only person who didn’t get annoyed or angry when he didn’t know someone or something. He looked forward to his visits, a calm in the storm.

Gregory Lestrade, a detective inspector of the Scotland Yard has known Sherlock since he found him a few years out of university strung out and mumbling about a crime scene he had came upon that he had managed to solve quicker than anyone he had ever known. He had watched Sherlock struggle to get clean the more he wanted to participate in the crime scenes, he watched as he was finally sober for six months, and saw the aftermath of the most recent suspect’s take down and swing of a chunk of metal against Sherlocks head. He had became involved romantically with Mycroft Holmes after the first time that he had followed Sherlock to an emergency room and had to suffer the consequences of Sherlock’s disgust at his calling his brother as next of kin. It was all worth it in the end, saving of the commonwealth, the love of a man, seeing Sherlock sober. The memory loss though, it was worrisome, would Sherlock lose his abilities? Greg had to know, and that is what brought him to the hospital that day.

“Sherlock? Hello, I’m DI Gregory Lestrade, we work together” Greg says slinking into the room. He places a collection of cleverly displayed test tubes that held different candies. Sherlock is propped up in bed, one hand on a laptop, the other furiously writing in a notebook.

“Hello?” Sherlock says stopping what he was doing and looking curiously at Lestrade. He sees that he’s trying to stop smoking, that he doesn’t sleep well, that eats way too many donuts for his own good, and that he is kind and trustworthy.

“How is your head? You worried me there for a minute Sherlock” Lestrade says grimacing. 

“It is down to a dull ache, and itchy stitches. So, please tell me how I know you. I’ve managed to delete almost everything over the last 19 years and since you are my first visitor other than my brother since I’ve been admitted, I’m going to guess that you are a friend. Please, I beg of you, tell me about my life.”  
Lestrade laughs uncomfortably. He doesn’t know where to start, the Sherlock lying on the bed with his head half shaved, eyes innocently looking up at him wasn’t the Sherlock that he knew four days ago.

“Ah, well, um I met you five years ago. At that time you were still taking heroin and cocaine on a regular basis. uhhmm you showed up a crime scene high yet solved it within fifteen minutes. A year ago you entered a rehabilitation program which was semi successful, you finally stopped using completely six months ago. You’ve solved a lot of cases for Scotland Yard, for which I am grateful. And, I would also call you my friend” Lestrade relates in one long stream. He looks embarrassed.

“So I work with you but I’m not an officer?” Sherlock asks.

“Well you call yourself a consulting detective. You contribute a lot to the cases that we are out of our depth over” Lestade smirks.

“Do you pay me?” Sherlock blurts.

“No”

“You probably should consider it by the look of embarrassment on your face I do a lot of the work for you” Sherlock smirks in amusement.

“I should but I can’t. You have a website, you earn money that way. Private consulting.” Greg says his head dropping in embarrassment.

“Now that is intriguing. A lot of cases?” Sherlock asks amused and eyebrows raised.

“Hff I… yes… I call you about three times a week. Honestly I would trade you for three of the investigators on my team, but you won’t complete the classes or apply officially.” Greg says gesturing wildly. Sherlock stares at the DI wondering what he had accomplished over the years and why he wasn’t part of the Yard. They were interrupted by a short brown haired girl with a large plush animal and a get well balloon in her hands. 

“Sherlock, it’s so good to see you, how are you feeling?” a mousy haired tiny thing of a woman in a labcoat shuffles in, “This is for you!”

“Thank you, but I don’t know who you are but you work in the morgue, have several cats, and may or may not be my girlfriend by the flush of your cheeks. I’m feeling fine by the way” Sherlock says staring at her curiously. Lestrade watches in amusement, he has seen how Sherlock has treated Molly in the past and has always thought it was terrible. To see Sherlock’s reaction to Molly as one of curiosity instead of annoyance was a happy change.

The girl bites her lip and fidgets nervously weighing what she should say next.

“Not your girlfriend, this is Molly Hooper, be nice Sherlock” Lestrade warns, saving Molly the temptation to say that she was dating him or some such nonsense.

“I was being nice, she’s smart and attractive and she’s obviously attracted to me by the way she keeps looking at my lips and chest. I didn’t do romantic relationships with either gender cause I found them unnecessary and messy, yet a lot has changed in 19 years so the possibility of me picking up a girlfriend is not out the realm of possibility” Sherlock states with a wave of his hand between himself and Molly.

“It’s good to see you’re feeling better. Sherlock, thank you for saying those nice things. I have some deformed pancreases for you whenever you’re up for experimenting again” Molly mumbles and turns out of the room.

“I’m not nice to her am I?” Sherlock asks nervously.

“Not always”

“Am I at least pleasant to you?” lowers his eyes.

“You are quiet trying at times.” Greg grins.

“I’m sorry Gavin. I will try to rectify that, also Ms. Hooper would appear to be a potentially useful and kind friend, which I appear to be lacking at the moment.” Sherlock apologizes.

“It’s Greg. Yes well the whole deduction thing you do doesn’t always come across as pleasant, but apologies go a long way.” Greg smiles kindly at Sherlock a hand placed on his shoulder in comfort.

“Sorry, Greg, you know memory issues.” Sherlock smirks gesturing to his head, “Thank you for visiting and helping me fill in some of my gaps. Mycroft has been reluctant.”

“He has his reasons. How is catching up on world history going?” Greg gestures to the laptop and pile of newspapers.

“Fascinating. I knew this internet thing would be a great help to research. It is a bit overwhelming, a lot of terrible things have happened, lives lost. This Ebola thing is quite concerning but exciting at the same time. ”

“Maybe Molly will let you know if she gets a victim in the morgue” Lestrade mutter as he looks over the note that Sherlock has taken.

“What?” Sherlock huffs.

“You do that, manipulate your way into her morgue to see the weird bodies.” Lestrade smirks.

“Are you quite sure she isn’t my girlfriend” Sherlocks shakes his head scowls at Greg.

“Quite. You flirt with her outrageously to get your way into her lab, and she’s desperately infatuated with you.” Greg says with a sigh and eyes that don’t meet the man in the bed. He raises his eyes for a moment to observe Sherlock. Sherlock looks adrift, his eyes are down turned in sadness and embarrassment.

Dr. Watson walks in hearing the last part of Greg’s words.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Watson” he says extending his hand.

“Gregory Lestrade, Sherlock’s friend and provider of cases” Lestrade chuckles nervously. 

“So did your girlfriend bring this for you?” John asks brightly moving the cat off the table.

“Not my girlfriend, though since she apparently lets me into a hospital morgue to experiment on the bodies, that status may change. It will be a great sacrifice on my part” Sherlock sighs.

“See there is a bit of you I’ve missed. The sarcasm and the petulant sigh. Mycroft and I are eager to have you at home.”

“What?! You and Mycroft!, isn’t my brother too old for a flatmate?” Sherlock scowls and bats John’s hand away from the sensor on the side of his head that he is trying to remove. John chuckles and tilts his head in waiting for Lestrade’s explanation. John smirks in realization of where this is going.

“Uh well. That is to say, this was so much easier a year ago when we did it together” Greg says rubbing his eyes.

“Oh seriously, My brother, in a relationship, with you. He doesn’t like people. Don’t I have my own place? I am an adult” Sherlock growls and crosses his arms.

“It would be better if he is in his own home, around his neighborhood, with his own belongings. I am sure Sherlock would have related that to his brother” John interrupts and managing to peel off the sensor in one quick flick of his fingers.

“OUCH! Pleasant bedside manner Doctor Watson.” Sherlock grimaces rubbing the red patch of skin.

“Sooner I get these off of you, the sooner we can schedule your release.” John says with a smile, “and the quicker you can get some real food into you like you’ve been whining about. Remember best fish and chips are from Gig’s” John says deftly removing the other sensor. He misses the surprise on Lestrade’s face.

“Answer me! Why am I not going home to my own home!” Sherlock shouts. Mycroft Holmes takes that moment to enter the room.

“Ahh Sherlock, some things never change, having a tantrum I see” 

“Mr. Holmes, your brother would like to return to his own home. I told him and I’m telling you, that would be the best way for his memories to return. As an intelligent man yourself, as Sherlock has told me, you should know that.” John states stepping closer to Mycroft. 

“Sherlock I can see you are agitated not only by the fact you will not be returning to your flat, but that Gregory has told you about our relationship, which I had specifically asked him not to mention until we were together.” Mycroft says with a pointed scowl at his partner and walking away from John.

“Well I mentioned we wanted him home, it just happened.” Greg says weakly.

“It will be better for my brother to be under Gregory and I’s supervision. Also I worry about all of those steps in his building, would be catastrophic if he were to take a tumble down those stairs. Doctor Watson when will my brother be released?” Mycroft states finally looking at John.

“Well I’ve removed the EEG sensors since he is not exhibited any further seizure activity. His stitches are due to come out tomorrow. I am concerned by, as Sherlock has described, the ‘persistent ache duller than C-SPAN’” a loud chuckle emits from Sherlock and he looks fondly at his doctor and John smirks at him, “I’d like to see him stay for two more days.”

“I see. Gentlemen I think my brother has had enough visitors for one day, Doctor Watson a word?” Mycroft says and points his umbrella out into the hallway.

Lestrade walks out of the room to an annoyed Sherlock. Sherlock returns to his computer keeping an eye on his brother as he and Doctor Watson go out into the hallway.

“What is it Mr. Holmes?” John asks as Mycroft grabs the back of John’s arm and drags him to an on-call room.

“Doctor Watson you will find at the end of your shift that a new doctor has been placed in charge of my brother’s care. Despite your assurances it appears that you and my brother have formed some sort of connection. I do not like it at all. Your concern over where my brother goes after he leaves this hospital is none of you business. Now, if you can’t keep yourself away from my brother, I will go further and see you removed from this hospital, do I make myself clear?” Mycroft growls pulling down his waistcoat, umbrella hooked over his arm. 

John blinks rapidly and turns over every single exchange with Sherlock Holmes and realizes that he not only attracted to him, but would like to pursue something with him. His brother is right, he shouldn’t be Sherlock’s doctor anymore. Could he keep himself away from him, sure he could. Does he want to, absolutely not.

“Mr. Holmes I don’t know exactly how you managed that, neither do I want to. I will do my best to distance myself from your brother,” John says standing as tall as he can, “may I ask why you don’t want him returning home?”

“Doctor Watson, my brother has had many issues over the years as you have observed by the scars. I am going to do the best to avoid him reverting to those behaviors. As much as I might want him to remember the marvelous things that he has learned over the years, his demons that he has not met yet, are an all too different thing. Good day Doctor Watson” Mycroft grumbles.

“But, he...I want to keep my job but your brother wants to remember, terribly. Why don’t you want..”

“Enough, I see that your limp is better, found a better therapist?” Mycroft smirks.

“No, may I leave sir?” John says defeated and clasping his cane tighter. 

“Of course. As you were Doctor Watson” Mycroft gestures to the door. 

As John fumes his way back to the nurses station he shoves his hand in his pocket for a pen. The pen is gone replace by a lined sheet of paper.

_When I get a new mobile, I will need your number. For medical reasons. S.H._

John laughs nervously and locks eyes with Mycroft Holmes just as he is entering the lift.


	5. Irritation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock deals with his new doctor and reluctantly says goodbye to John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd all mistakes are mine 
> 
> I just want to give a heads up to those that are subscribing and reading this fic. The rating probably won't go above "teen and up" it might go "mature" if I am brave enough but really don't get your hopes up. I don't want to write bad porn, so I don't even attempt it with any confidence. See more in my profile.

Mycroft gave one last disparaging look to Dr. John Watson. He knew that the doctor was a good man, who sacrificed his body and safety in Afghanistan, who had an excellent service record, and was a well liked physician. His concerns regarding his brother were based in the events that Sherlock had erased those nineteen years ago. John’s kindness and connection to his brother would only hurt his brother in the long run, when Sherlock remembered who he truly was and how the drug use had started. Mycroft wouldn’t really end the poor man’s career, he knew his threat would be enough. His brother would be angry with his interference, but Sherlock would just have to endure disappointment. Taking a deep breath Mycroft entered his brother’s room.

“Mycroft. Looming in doorways, scaring away people. See you’re still doing that.” Sherlock mutters.

“Sherlock. I see you’ve been having plenty of visitors.” Mycroft says batting against Molly’s balloon with a sneer.

“Well, fewer than I expected. I am gathering I became more of an asshole than I was when I was nineteen. I mean I know I should have friends.” Sherlock states gesticulating wildly. 

“Sherlock. I could lie to you and tell you that you have a lot of friends and that they are just very busy or that you haven’t alienated almost everyone that you meet, but I would be lying and you would know.” Mycroft sighs. He doesn’t like the look of indignation mixed with hurt that passes over his younger brother’s face. Mycroft would rather hurt his brother himself and suffer the ire sure to come his way than let anyone else hurt him ever again.

“So you have a boyfriend. How did you find the time? The last I remember you were off to rule England.” Sherlock huffs changing the subject.

“Sherlock. You’ve always exaggerated. I merely hold a minor position in the government. As far as the relationship Gregory and I share, I have found someone that I enjoy spending time with when I am not working. Our schedules are erratic enough to not anger each other. I will admit that I was wrong when I told you that loving someone is a deficit” Mycroft says sitting down in the chair.

“You did?” Sherlock asks confused, “why would you tell me that. Mother and father love eachother very much. They are still together aren’t they??” Sherlock looks panicked.

“Yes alive and well. Currently in Oklahoma competing in a line dancing competition” Mycroft rolls his eyes.

“What? Line dancing?” Sherlock laughs, “do they know what has happened to me?”

“I felt it better that they didn’t. Over the years we’ve found them insufferable and overbearing at best. Sherlock how are you feeling?” Mycroft asks suddenly with genuine concern, as if remembering why he was actually there.

“No seizures, head still hurts, but ignorable. I’m hungry all of the time and I’m overwhelmed by the time that I have lost” Sherlock sighs gesturing to the laptop and the magazines. Mycroft notes the weariness in his brother. 

“How is the staff treating you?” Mycroft asks raising an eyebrow.

“They aren’t all idiots. Doctor Watson is a fascinating person and an excellent doctor” Sherlock states avoiding his brother’s pointed gaze.

“I see,” Mycroft says staring at his brother and noticing every behavioral tell and inhales deeply, “by your clenched fists and furrowed eyebrows I can tell you want to ask me something. Ask and I will answer you as well as I can. I do have work to return to at some point.” Mycroft sighs.

“Why am I going home to your and Greg’s home and not my own. I should be able to take care of myself. John,” Mycroft arches a brow at his brother’s slip, “I mean Doctor Watson said I should be around my own things and my own neighborhood” Sherlock grumbles.

“Despite what the good Doctor Watson believes, Sherlock as you know from the obvious scars you have a history of intravenous drug use that you are clean of for only six months. Despite the fact that I have had your flat checked I worry about a relapse. Gregory and I are all you have as far as a support system at this juncture. I do not trust anyone that I would hire to look after you, and my partner and I will not submit to life in that hovel you call a flat. Until I feel you are well enough to not harm yourself, I will not consider letting you live on your own” Mycroft scowls at his brother.

Sherlock is silent for the moment, his jaw clenches and his brow is furrowed. Mycroft watched as a familiar processing look crossed over Sherlock’s face. Mycroft was completely torn between wanting his brother to remember who he was and not wanting him to remember the incident that had restructured his younger sibling completely.

“Mycroft I have absolutely no desire to use drugs. Why would I, my brain is all I have! Please I think being around my things and my life would help me!” Sherlock shouts moving as if to get out of bed. Mycroft stops his brother with a point of his umbrella handle to Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Sherlock you still do not realize how much worse the world has become since you last remembered. Please, trust me for once to know what is best for you. Sherlock, I do care what happens to you” Mycroft sighs. Sherlock settles back against the bed in a with a pout.

“I need a phone, and at very least my own clothes, a room that locks, and maybe a room for experiments” Sherlock concedes folding his arms stubbornly.

“As you wish” Mycroft sighs and nods.

“What did you have to say to Doctor Watson that you didn’t want me to hear?!” Sherlock blurts.

“Just merely taking a measure of your condition. Making sure he is doing all he can. I have my doubts” Mycroft sneers studying his fingernails.

“You’re lying” Sherlock murmurs studying his brother with narrowed eyes.

“Be that as it may, I shall see you tomorrow” Mycroft declares as he exits the room.

The rest of the evening passes with a parade of nurses checking vitals, and Sherlock’s mental state. Sherlock is annoyed by it, almost driving one of them to tears. He was only stopped by Gloria pulling the other nurse out of the room. Sherlock dares to google himself and finds his website. Sherlock is mildy disgusted by his writing about 243 types of tobacco ash, he had becomes so absolutely boring. He attempted for hours to determine the password to the blog but to no avail, falling asleep hands up on the keyboard. He misses the nurse closing the laptop, pulling up the blanket, and wiping off the whiteboard in his room detailing his caretakers. Watson is replaced with Evans in her inelegant script. 

The name change is the first thing that Sherlock sees when he wakes up and immediately hits the call button. Gloria, his least favorite nurse scowls at him,

“What is it Mr. Holmes? You’re not due for pain medication for another hour.” 

“Why have I been assigned a new doctor?” Sherlock rolls his eyes at the arrival of his newfound nemisis.

“Oh that. There isn’t anything in the chart indicating why, it look like it was decided sometime yesterday afternoon. After your EEG was removed.” Gloria mumbles thumbing through the computer.

“When am I due for a visit from this Doctor Evans?”

“When he does rounds which usually begin about 10?” Gloria murmurs.

“Thank you Gloria.” Sherlock scowls.

Why wouldn’t John have told him he wasn’t going to be his doctor anymore. Was he getting worse? Was there some underlying condition he was not aware of? He began trying to figure out his password again to no satisfying end. It was probably something sentimental event or person that he was no longer in contact with. Hours later when John usually would stop by to talk and bring Sherlock a cup of caffeine free tea, with apologies about how they had to watch his blood pressure, there was no John, and still no new doctor. Panic began to course through his body and he couldn’t control his heart rate. John Watson was the only thing that was making his condition and his stay in this hospital remotely tolerable. His blood pressure began to rise and he tried deep breaths, but soon the monitors began to alarm and a red faced, overweight, elderly man in lab coat steps into the room.

“What appears to be the problem Mr. Holmes? I am Doctor Evans, your blood pressure is alarmingly high, let us see if we can get it back down, hmm?” the man states as he pushes some sort of medicine into the port in Sherlock’s hand.

“What happened to Doctor Watson?” Sherlock huffs as the medicine kicks in and he feels his body relax.

“I am the leading expert in neurology, I have written several articles about seizure activity and memory loss, I assure you I am the best in my field and we will get that brain of yours working properly again” Doctor Evans mutters.

“Answer my question! You have all the malodorous signs of diabetes, you haven’t slept regularly since you outright refuse to use a CPAP machine since you think it will turn off you wife of over 40 years. You outright dislike me on sight which suggests that you have been in contact with my brother, believe me I preferred my previous doctor. He at least treated me like a human being, not a puzzle to solve or a problem to fix. As you can see my brain is working perfectly fine, it is just missing the last nineteen years. Where is Doctor John Watson?” Sherlock spits out in one long breath.

“Ah there it is then. I am all too familiar with the Holmesian ability to read every little fact in a glance. I am neither impressed or intimidated. Doctor Watson is no longer any of your concern. I’ve scheduled a therapist to visit you to assess your memory loss more thoroughly than Doctor Watson thought was necessary. Also, I am dialing down your pain dosage as you are a former drug addict. You may get some physical therapy since you’ve been in bed for several days as well. Any questions or do I need to repeat myself?” Doctor Evans grumbles.

Sherlock takes a deep breath and determines what another onslaught of deductions would cost him and decides to shake his head.

“Good well. You’ll be released two day from now your stitches are healing properly and the lack of seizure activity is grounds for release. Let’s get you up,” Doctor Evans says lowering the bed rail and helping Sherlock to his feet. He has Sherlock take several steps, “Good you’re physically you are fine, despite the surges in your blood pressure. Why don’t we get started on the mind. What is the last thing you remember Mr. Holmes?” Evans asks after settling a seething Sherlock back on the bed.

This question makes Sherlock shudder, he hated that question. It had been asked by every single nurse, Mycroft and Gregory. The question had frustrated and angered Sherlock every single time. Being asked again by this new doctor set Sherlock on edge. 

“Isn’t that in those copious notes you doctors always take?!” Sherlock barks.

“Please again in your own words. Saying again might, assist with remembering” Evans asks thumbing through his tablet.

“Going to a test. I think I was with someone. I just..it is dark and blank.” Sherlock feeling a familiar anxiety creeping in his chest.

“No sensory information? Smells? Sounds?” Evans asks taking notes.

“Nothing! Its blank, I think...I think I was afraid?!” Sherlock blurts clutching the sheets in pain. It is if his body is remembering something his mind can’t.

“Good that is a least a start.” Doctor Evans nods and leaves the room without any further comfort or explanation. 

Sherlock is exhausted from dealing with his new doctor and trying to retrieve the barest scraps of his memories. He manages to keep the frustrated tears at bay until the room is empty again. He wanted to see John, talk to the kind doctor who chatted needlessly about spy novels and hospital politics. He drifted into an anxious and exhausted sleep.

Hours later he is bothered again by a knock on his doors raises his hopes of seeing John again, but it wasn’t it was Molly.

“Sherlock? Hello how are you?” she asks shyly.

“Tired, better, I’m sorry Miss Hooper for how I reacted to you the last time. I...just...deformed pancreases you mentioned?” Sherlock mutters waving his hands.

“Thank you Sherlock. When you are ready my lab and those organs will be waiting. When do you think you will be getting out of here? I’ll have a double order for Indian food whenever you are ready.” she squeaks excitedly.

“A couple of days. They’ve changed my doctor. I’m not happy about it but, I appear to have no control over my own health or happiness. I wonder when I started liking Indian food, well anything is better than the swill that is served to the recovering” Sherlock states nervously.

“Well, Indian is the only food that you have ever stolen from me since we met . I’m glad you are getting better. I’ve missed your presence in the lab it is a bit dull with only the dead around” Molly smiles at him.

“The dead don’t talk back do the? Thank you Molly, your kindness reassures me that I’ve not become a complete monster in the time that I have missed. I’m not am I?” Sherlock asks.

“Sherlock Holmes you are not a monster, rude sometimes yes, but no monster., Molly says patting his hand, “rest now. Get better.” 

“Molly?” 

“Yes Sherlock?” Molly turns back bright eyed.

“You’re my friend aren’t you?” Sherlock asks fiddling with the blanket.

“Of course Sherlock. I don’t save body parts for just anyone. See you soon” Molly says smiling and waving as she turns down the hallway.

Sherlock passes the hours trying to decode his password and research the last nineteen years. It is terrible to see the things that have happened, the terrorism, the wars, the serial killers. It disturbed him more when he googled himself again and saw all of the coverage of his solved crimes. Sherlock had decided that he would study chemistry, but he never quite got to the point of deciding what he would do with the degree. Solving crimes never came into his thought process, the stories of his success made him excited about the possibilities of his life outside of the hospital. Nurses drifted in, his diabetic doctor did as well without a word and soon he was entirely exhausted without lifting a finger. Sleep found Sherlock eventually and he dreamt for the first time since his accident. Darkness and pain, and tests and Mycroft. 

When Sherlock woke again it was with a hope that John Watson would visit today. He was lonely, angry, sad. Sherlock decided to get up and out of bed on his own. He wandered the hallways of his floor, only clutching the handrails of the hallways on occasion. The exercise helped clear the cobwebs of his uneasy night. Eventually he tired again and slept, when he woke and it was the afternoon and there was still no John Watson he finally had enough.

Sherlock made his way slowly to the nurses station. He narrowed down from the four nurses that one was happily married yet missed his children, one was had a serious pain killer addiction, there was Gloria who he would definitely avoid, and then there was the one on the blue cardigan. Recently dumped by her boyfriend, owns several overweight dogs, has few friends, bingo. He brings his hands up to his hair to ruffle it into submission and feels the shaved patch and winces. His Holmesian charm will just have to do. He sees the woman’s name on her badge and makes his move. 

“Hello there, Margaret, that is a lovely cardigan, compliment’s your eyes. I was just wondering if you could locate my doctor. I had a question only he could answer” Sherlock says with a wink and saccharine smile. 

The nurse blushes and smiles back, “What is his name?”

“John Watson, blondish hair, 167 cm,” Sherlock cocks an eyebrow, “devastatingly handsome.”

Again the poor nurse can’t help but blush again and twist the end of her braid, she giggles and says, “Yes I know him, let me see. I could have him paged, to see if he is available?”

“Would you? You’ve made my day Margaret.” Sherlock says as clutching his chest in mock appreciation

“Of course. What is your name?” she giggles again

“Sherlock Holmes” he says sneaking a look at pager list to see if he can just page his doctor himself any time he wants.

“Holmes!?” Margaret yelps dropping the papers on the floor.

“Ahh I see my brother has been by. Well I’ll just wander down to A&E and find him myself” Sherlock huffs turning away from the desk.

“NO! Please just...ahhh…let me call your actual doctor first.” Margret fumbles with the papers and jumps to her feet.

“Leaving, finding Doctor Watson, wouldn’t want you get in trouble if I take a fall. Head injury, memory loss, I’m dangerous to myself” Sherlock tosses over his shoulder as he takes several steps towards the bank of elevators.

“Mr. Holmes fine I’ll do it just tell your brother you stole the pager list.” Margaret says walking around the desk in pursuit.

“Excellent.” Sherlock crows with a clap of his hands. He finds a chair to lurk in and waits.

“I was paged” a rather frazzled looking John Watson approaches the desk, “I don’t have any patients on this floor anymore” he is completely oblivious to Sherlock who has draped himself over the counter of the nurses station.

“Forgetting about me Doctor Watson?” Sherlock murmurs with a wave of his hands.

John takes a moment to steel himself for the conversation he would have to have with Sherlock. It had been almost twenty four hours since he had last seen his former patient. His thoughts had debated with saying to hell with Mycroft Holmes, he could be friends with whomever he wanted and cold fear of losing his job. He was disappointed with himself for being attracted to Sherlock Holmes and having to hurt a such a sharp-minded yet vulnerable man.

“Sherlock. You have been assigned a new doctor” John manages as flatly as he can. He doesn’t meet the other man’s eyes.

“He is utterly unhelpful and might die of diabetes before I leave this very hospital. Where would I be then?” he smiles warmly at John and tilts his head, “Did you get my note?”

“He’s the best in his field Sherlock! Yeah I got your note, it would be completely inappropriate on so many levels if I were to give you my number. I can’t treat you Sherlock, I have other patients and you have been reassigned and should be released in what a day or so? I have to get back to patients that actually need me!” John says brusquely gathering his tablet and paper work and turning away from his former patient.

“You get that from when you were in Afghanistan. The need to protect and to do what is right. You’re limp is psychosomatic but it stops when you are talking to or taking care of me. I’m guessing a possible upper cervical injury by the tremor in you hands, but can’t tell since neck and back issues are common with people on their feet all day everyday. You’re kind to your fellow doctors and nurses, but they bore you tears. Are you sure you don’t need me? Grey by the way.” Sherlock rattles off slowly and calmly. His eyes never leave the form of John Watson. John takes a deep breath, roll his shoulders, and turns to the nurse that Sherlock had been manipulating.

“Amazing, I was shot in my shoulder” he laughs then remembers himself, “Margaret, please page his actual doctor if you would, Mr. Holmes here is no longer my patient. I will escort him back to his room. He is still experiencing pain and lethargy and shouldn’t be on his feet” he guides Sherlock back towards his room with a gentle hand on his lower back.

“John?” Sherlock bleats at the unexpected contact.

“Wait a second Sherlock” John huffs quietly.

“I can walk to my room myself. I may have memory deficiencies but I have been walking around recently!!” Sherlock huffs loudly for everyone to hear as he shuffles towards his bed. 

“Sit and shut it. Your brother explicitly threatened my job if I had any further interactions with you. We can’t talk or visit and I bloody well can’t give you my phone number. I have a girlfriend. Please Sherlock, I’m sorry but.”

Sherlock sits up straight on the bed and interrupts with, “Your job is all that is keeping you happy and”

Sherlock stops his observation and watches John close his eyes and bite his lip in frustration. He knows he has hit too close to home. Their conversations have danced around John’s service to his country and his assimilation back to London. Sherlock knew that the doctor didn’t sleep well, he knew that he didn’t get along with his sibling of unknown gender, he knew that John was struggling with his life in general. Sherlock was pushing him because he knew that John could be better, more confident, and could have so much more. When John finally speaks the sadness that haunts his posture and his eyes is almost unbearable.

“Sherlock, you can do amazing things with that brain of yours. There are few patients of mine that I care to spend more than five minutes with when I’ve treated them, I enjoyed spending time with you more than I should have. You need all the friends that you can get, but I can’t lose this job. You’re right, I’m hanging by a thread here. I’m sorry. I wish all good things for you. Good luck.” John says softly trying to end whatever this is and turning to leave.

“John, I need you” Sherlock mutters rolling over with his back away to John and closing his eyes. John watches him curled against the bed. He misses their conversations, he mourns the loss that distancing himself from Sherlock causes. John can’t help himself and asks, 

“One last thing, grey? What is that about?” John says with his hand on the door frame.

“Pants” Sherlock mumbles. He then turns back to John and raises an eyebrow.

“You bastard” John shouts turning a delightful shade of pink. He can’t help the bubble of laughter that comes out of his mouth and Sherlock joins him.

“Is that how we are talking to our patients these days Doctor Watson?” Doctor Evans asks appearing at the door silently.

John jumps slightly and replies “Running joke sir. I found him wandering down by the nurses station chatting up Margaret. I checked his chart and noticed he should be out of bed for extended periods and escorted him back.”

“Consider this a warning, he is my patient, call security the next time you see him out of his boundaries. I happen to know his brother quite well Doctor Watson. I’d like to see you continue to work here. You show promise and I’d hate to see you come undone over an obnoxious patient and a silly crush” Doctor Evans declares.

John can’t help the blush that rises to his cheeks. “I’ll be on my way sir, Sherlock I hope that you find the rest of your life a happy one.” John chokes out.

“You as well Doctor Watson” Sherlock says quietly.


	6. Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a panic attack, Greg and John bond, and John makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a bit of pseudo-science. I know that amnesia doesn't really work the way I describe it here. Also not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> I do really hate hurting John & Sherlock, I swear it will get better. Mycroft is just gonna have to deal with it.

You as well Doctor Watson. John heard the pain in Sherlock’s words. 

John, for the first time since his return to London, took time off. He had vacation days that he didn’t have a reason to take, the work distracted him from his nightmares, his pain, his loneliness. He didn’t even think of Sarah who had been the first person that had given him the time of day since he came back from Afghanistan. 

After meeting Sherlock Holmes, he felt hope for the first time, a connection, and an overprotective older brother had taken it away from him. Doctor Evans was right it was just a crush on an attractive, brilliant, funny patient. For some reason this person found something in John that he liked as well. John honestly hadn’t felt this way since he had hit puberty and sex. If he could avoid Sherlock, and Sherlock’s release from the hospital he thought that he could move on.

_I looked for you when I left SH_

**_Who is this?_ **

Forgotten me already? SH

**_Who are you? I don’t have time for this, stop._ **

Your pleasant bedside manner has changed Doctor Watson SH

**_Sherlock?_ **

This texting thing is much preferable to awkward conversations SH

**_How did you even get my number?_ **

You’ve enraptured about 90% of the nursing staff. Men included. It wasn’t difficult to flirt it out of someone. SH

**_For the love of... Sherlock did you not listen to a word I said?_ **

_Ignoring it. You’ve taken time off I called the hospital. Plans with the girlfriend? SH_

**_None of your business, turning off the phone now._ **

John does that and realizes the ‘Sherlock Holmes problem’ was worse now that they each others’ numbers. He thought about making an appointment with his therapist, but he knew that it would be a fruitless endeavor talking to her about his former patient since she would inevitably turn the conversation towards his nightmares, his PTSD and he would be passive aggressive and leave feeling worse.

Radio silence would have to be the plan. Phone off, computer abandoned, novels would be good. And that is how he spent his time for the next four days, reading novels, eating bad food, leaving the bedsit only when desperate for fresh air. The bleak quiet soothed him, he slept a lot, watched a lot of bad daytime television and absolutely did not think about Sherlock Holmes. 

The last day of his time away from the hospital he turned his phone back on and felt an immediate sense of dread.

45 messages. 44 from one Sherlock Holmes, 1 from the woman he was calling his girlfriend. 

_John just checking in to see how you are. Call me, you’re not picking up your phone. From Sara._

He then proceed to read every single message Sherlock felt compelled to send John.

_Fine I’ll still text you anyway, might figure out where you live in the meantime SH_

Shit buggery fuck. That would be all that he would need Sherlock showing up on his doorstep. Some of the highlights that amused or concerned John.

_Mycroft and Lestrade are at it like rabbits, it is nauseating SH_

_Doctor Evans assigned an imbecile as my therapist, made the man cry on day one. SH_

_Fascinating stuff about the DNA mapping SH_

_The princes turned out to be fine boys, the ginger one should have kept his clothes on though SH_

_I snuck out and took a cab past my flat. Mycroft has my keys. SH_

_Mycroft let me go to dissect the pancreases that Molly, told me about. She flirts outrageously at me. SH_

_My mum called Mycroft cause she couldn’t get ahold of me. She sounds the same, asked me the sames things she used to, she couldn’t tell the difference SH_

_John? SH_

_I think I only have three friends now, one of which is shagging my brother, Molly and, you. SH_

The last one was the worst one, it was the one that sat John back down on his bed. It was the one that turned his stomach. 

John went to work. The texts stopped. He felt a sense of relief. He began to lose the cold fear of losing his job. Things got easier and better with every day that passed. 

It was now a month and a half since he had said goodbye to Sherlock Holmes. John’s routine was back to normal. He avoided neuro as much as he could, deferring to other doctors when head injuries came in to the trauma unit. The pain in John’s leg returned to the ever present shooting pain from calf to his mid back. The pain was more vicious than ever. 

He was slumped over an empty workspace when he heard a deep rumble of a voice shout his name. His head shot up at the scuffling noises he heard as well to see Sherlock Holmes being held back by several uniformed security guards. Sherlock’s eyes were wide and he looked like he had run a marathon from the flush of his cheeks and the sweaty curls plastered to his forehead.

“Sherlock?! Wait I know him, it’s okay!” John shouted making his way to the men struggling to pull Sherlock back.

“Doctor, he bypassed several levels of security before we found him. He is a possible danger to everyone!” one of the guards grumbles with effort to hold onto Sherlock.

“Not as dangerous as your breath!” Sherlock sneers trying to tug his arms out of the guards’ hold.

“Stop Sherlock. Look gentlemen, I know him he’s fine. Let him go, I’ll take responsibility and see that he finds his way out. Please?” John says not liking the way that the other has Sherlock’s arm wrenched behind his back.

“Make sure that we get his contact information so that he has restricted access to the hospital.” 

“Fine” John says reaching out to remove Sherlock from the two officers.

“John?” Sherlock asks shakily.

“Come on Sherlock in here” John says gesturing to an empty room. John takes in the unruly hair, the dark denim, the deep v neck t-shirt, and the leather jacket. Sherlock looked nothing like the man in the suit that had been admitted those weeks ago. His hair was all around clipped shorter meeting the new growth. Sherlocked looked a decade younger.

“John..John..I..” Sherlock starts pacing wall to wall, hand in his hair.

“Why are you here Sherlock?” John asks with head tilted, arms crossed.

“John I’m...I… I’m not a nice person. I’ve hurt people I…” Sherlock mumbles. John takes in his former patient with concern. He recognizes the signs of a panic attack and immediately switches into doctor mode.

“Sherlock? what’s going on. Sit please.” John says quietly and sitting Sherlock down on the edge of the bed.

“I realize now why I don’t have any friends. I must be an utter and complete bastard. I’ve probably tormented people, people hate me!” Sherlock says running shaking hands through his hair.

“What? You look terrible. Give me your wrist.” John grabs his wrist and straightened Sherlock’s chin to look at his pupils. Sherlock’s pulse is too rapid for his exertions but his pupils are normal. His respiration rate is also way too fast.

“John I can’t, my chest.” Sherlock whines trying to pull away from John.

“Shhhh Sherlock. You’re having a panic attack.” John says gently pressing a hand on his shoulder. 

“You didn’t text me back.” Sherlock gulps avoiding John’s gaze.

“I know...I’m sorry...here...deep breaths...in and out” John soothes. He looks at the shaking form of Sherlock Holmes, he wasn’t the confident snarky man that he had treated. Something happened besides John’s lack of contact that set this off in his former patient. “Good deep breaths. I don’t want you to hyperventilate Sherlock, in and out.” 

John rests a hand on the back of Sherlock’s neck, the other against his sternum to ground him into the present. The room is filled with the sound of Sherlock’s breathing. John takes his pulse again and it is slower and decides to speak.

“Sherlock, will you tell me what happened?”

A few ragged breaths occur before Sherlock replies, “Lestrade thought it would be a good idea to…” Sherlock rolls his neck shrugging off John’s hand, “to bring me to Scotland Yard. He’s been giving me my previously solved case files to see if my conclusions would be the same, of course they were.”

“So he tried to force you back to work?” John asks stepping back.

“Not forcing me. I was getting so damn bored being babysat by Mycroft and his assistants. I wanted to go if not only to escape my brother for a bit. I was feeling better getting back to something normal that I did. The former cases were challenging and I trying an active case would make me even happier. I asked to go with him.” Sherlock says still taking shuddering breaths in and out.

“Ok, good that’s good, doing something familiar. Did you remember something? Is that what happened?” John asks his mouth turned down with concern.

“No, I” Sherlock started and John watched as tears spilled out of Sherlock’s eyes.

“Hey, it is okay, you’re safe, let me help you.” John pleads.

“I went with Greg to his office. He took me on a tour, showed me the various developments in crime solving and introduced me to his staff. I was looking forward to seeing the forensics unit and Gregory said he could make arrangements for me to use it if I needed. Then one of the Sergeants a woman, Donovan?, who must have known me because she was immediately angry at my presence. She...” Sherlock starts and drops his head and more tears spill down his chin.

John waited for Sherlock to continue, reaching for a tissue from the box on the end table. He hands it towards Sherlock carefully. Sherlock doesn’t take it and violently wipes at his face.

“She called me a freak. Said I wasn’t wanted or needed, and that I am, ” Sherlock takes a shuddery breath, “that I am a sociopath! That I proudly called myself one.” 

“Sherlock you aren’t a sociopath you know this don’t you? You’re brother would have mentioned it right?” John asks 

“I have all the indicators, the manipulation to get my way, drug use, relationship issues. I’ve done my research.” Sherlock grumbles.

“Tortured animals as a youngster?” a shake of head from Sherlock, “Been arrested a lot before you were 18?” another shake “I know you don’t lack empathy or don’t show remorse when you feel you’ve done something wrong,and those are some of the indicators I know you do not meet. The faking of emotions is a pretty big indicator Sherlock, because I know the reaction you are having at being hurt is not faked or manipulating in any way.” John says quietly.

Sherlock continues to shake and tears continue drip off his chin. He is silent and John considers calling the psych department for a consult since the man is is so frantically undone. Sherlock suddenly lifts his head and says, “Another person, Philip, joined in and said ‘you’re faking the memory loss aren’t you. For some sort of experiment’ now tell me, why would he say that if I wasn’t completely abnormal.” 

“Sherlock Holmes you are normal, as if there is a definition for that but I would diagnose that you’re depressed, a bit anxious, and who would blame you? You’re missing almost two decades of your life. Those people that called you those things today are unbelievably inconsiderate. You have a therapist right? If he thought you were a something violent or worse he’d do something about it.” John asks

“Yes, but I’m on an antidepressant, I don’t think it’s working” Sherlock says quietly

“How long?” John asks.

“Four days” 

“It needs to build up in you system a bit. You will be feeling better soon Sherlock, I promise.” John says giving a squeeze of his shoulder.

John watched Sherlock take several deep shuddering breaths. He waits and watches for Sherlock to gather himself together and when Sherlock finally raises his head John releases the breath he had been holding. 

“Are you sure?” he asks so so much desperation, something breaks in John’s heart.

“Completely” John says with a nod.

“I’m sorry I texted you...I know you can’t...won’t see me. I have to go home” Sherlock says standing suddenly.

“Sherlock, please wait. How are you feeling right now?” John says holding a palm up to protest Sherlock’s leaving.

“Tired, defeated, lonely, I hate that I have noone to talk to but you. Molly is grating on my nerves with all of her ‘don’t you remembers’ ” Sherlock glares at John with the last word. John decides that he should no longer be afraid of Mycroft.

“Let me help you Sherlock. Your brother, he doesn’t have cameras in here does he?” John cracks a wry smile.

“I don’t think so.” Sherlock says eyeing the ceiling and the various fixtures around the room.

“Really that is a possibility? Jesus,” John says nervously, “Ok then. Two people that you knew before your accident called you names and were generally unpleasant. What does that tell you about them?”

“They don’t like me.” Sherlock grumbles

“No I think that is more about how you feel. Sherlock, who calls a man who has had a serious head injury and significant memory loss a freak and a sociopath?” John asks disbelieving

“Ignorant imbeciles?” 

“Right, and utter cocks. Sherlock Holmes you are better, more brilliant, and more pleasant than those two. You can be a bit off putting at times but, do you want me to have another psych eval to prove it to you? To prove that I am right about you?” John asks 

“Oh god no. I’m sorry I bother you with this, crying like a bullied schoolboy,” a shuddering inhale and exhale comes from the lips of Sherlock. He rubs his face and ruffles his hair and finally looks into the eyes of his former doctor, “thank you John. I didn’t know where to go. I should go now.” 

“Right, you are welcome Sherlock. Please, take care will you?”

”Thank you John. I won’t bother you again” Sherlock sighs.

“Sherlock, please just try to get on with the rest of your life. You deserve that, even if you never remember, you are worthy of a good and happy life. Please you will do good to forget me.” John winces as soon as that last sentence comes out of his mouth.

“I won’t forget you John Watson. You are only person who has never asked me to remember something, pressured me to get better, told me who I should be, or dismissed what I want. I won’t forget you. Have a good evening, Doctor.” Sherlock turns out of the room and John completely forgets about having to escort him out. He drops to the bed with raging pain in his leg.

* * *

Sherlock’s visit had shaken him to the core. Sherlock Holmes was having issues that he didn’t want to share with his therapist or doctor. Sherlock was depressed and lonely and John only pushed him away. John hated himself and Mycroft Holmes even more. John didn’t want to hurt Sherlock anymore. John found himself at his favorite pub tucked into a corner. He wanted to forget his feelings for Sherlock, distance himself after the breakdown today at the hospital. He tried to forget the softness of Sherlock’s growing in hair at the back of his neck, or how thin he still was, forget the all encompassing feeling of regret he felt after Sherlock said he would never forget him. He’d have to try and disappear, find a new place to live, a new job, anything because trying to keep himself away from Sherlock or trying to stop thinking about him was not working out at all. He would definitely have to break it off with Sarah at the very least, as soon as he was significantly under the influence. She was noticing the distance and she deserved better than what John was giving to her. He tried to distract himself with some match on the television when a familiar face caught his eye.

It was the officer that was involved with Sherlock’s brother. The man looked like he was celebrating something with a bunch of friends. When two men’s eyes met the officer waved him over and John reluctantly hobbled over to him.

“Ah, Doctor Watson, good to see you!” the man said clapping him on the back.

“Officer Lestrade? Good to see you too, uhm you can call me John .” John states

“Greg is fine. These are my co workers. Philip Anderson and Sally Donovan, I’m avoiding home and celebrating wrapping up a case.” Greg says swinging John into the direction of the two people that had tormented Sherlock today.

“You two should be ashamed of yourselves.” John growls, immediately and blindingly angry.

“For what?” the ratty man with the beard whines through his nose.

“What you did to Sherlock. You realize that he can’t remember anyone or anything he has done the past 19 years. Can’t remember how he treated you at all, and you felt that it was ok to call him names and basically push him away from something that he enjoyed and was excellent at. I’ve looked him up, plenty of cases solved for you!” John says finishing with an all too wide toothy smile.

“I..” Philip starts. Before he can continue John spins towards Sally.

“And you, Freak, sociopath really? All that man wants right now is to remember his life and have meaningful connections to people. He has figured out that he has treated people terribly and he wants to fix that, and neither of you could be bothered to let him.” John barks and watches the woman blink and avert her eyes. He scowls at Greg and without word shakes off Greg’s arm and stalks back to his corner to get his coat. He’d just settle down at home with his own alcohol and try to forget, make that call to Sarah, sink into an unfeeling abyss. When he turns back to exit he finds Greg standing with two glasses of dark liquid blocking his path.

“John sit down please. It appears you and I need to have a talk about Sherlock.” Greg says placing one glass down on the table, gesturing for John to sit back down.

“He came to see me Greg. I didn’t contact him, please don’t tell Mycroft.” John states nervously forgetting his brave resolve of earlier.

“Sit down John, it’s alright. Drink that, it’s very good and very expensive.” Greg mumbles as he sits down on the chair.

“Thank you. Why don’t you give me your version of what happened today.”

“John, listen I thought Sherlock was ready to come active cases again. I told those two about what had happened. They didn’t listen, they really aren’t bad people. Sherlock just has, in a word, annoyed them.”

“They hurt him, he had a panic attack.” John sputters angrily.

“He came to see you. What does that tell you John?” Greg says quietly.

“I don’t know Greg, I was his doctor. I’m nothing but a doctor who treated him with kindness and respect. Something apparently that no one appears to think he deserves.” helpless John takes a swig of the liquid.

“John all I have heard for the last month or so was John Watson this and my former doctor that. Sherlock has talked to me more about anything and everything that he is feeling and thinking that he has in total since we met. He told me that he is lonely, that he asked his current doctor for antidepressants, he’s hurting John.” Greg stares into his glass

“Don’t you think I know that?! What the hell do you expect me to do? You’re boyfriend wants me fired if I even sneeze in Sherlock’s general direction. I can’t do this, I need to investigate reenlisting.” John sighs wearily.

“Listen I don’t think you have to go that far. Ever since Sherlock left rehab, Mycroft and I developed a system to make sure he didn’t use again. Whenever we thought he had been triggered we’d tell the other that Sherlock was having a _Danger Night_. We’d intervene and distract him and he would be ok, he wouldn’t use. So today I texted Mycroft when Sherlock stormed away from the building without a fucking word. _Sherlock is going to have a Danger Night._ His reply was _I warned you. Sleep somewhere else tonight. MH_ I expected this since Mycroft begged me not to bring him in today. I should have listened so I took a deep breath, made a reservation for somewhere to stay and then continued with my day, until I got this at the end of my shift.” Greg shoves his phone in John’s face.

_He went and saw John Watson. He is calmly playing the violin and ate a full dinner. He is currently sitting in the library reading. Please do return home at some point. I am sorry MH_

“Oh so not mad then?” John asks sitting back surprised.

“I would say that having to deal with his brother on a day to day basis, having him loudly deduce our sex lives, and worrying himself to death over his brother is wearing my dear Mycroft down.” Greg smirks at John.

“So I might still have a job if I were to say, text Sherlock at some point? Asking how he is?”

“I think Mycroft might be open to the idea that you are good for his brother.” Lestrade says gesturing with his glass.

“I don’t know about that.” John says then taking another swig, pleasantly warm and relaxed now.

“John, let me speak of the life before Sherlock’s accident, it might explain some things. He thought that everyone is an ignorant waste of space, including me and Molly and we are his friends. So, if this nineteen-year-old version of Sherlock is kinder, more considerate, reaching out to people and one of them is you? That says more about your character than anything else. Sherlock is still Sherlock, he doesn’t like that new doctor or therapist of his. He likes you.” Greg gestures towards John then throws up a hand to signal a waitress for more.

“I don’t understand.” John says shaking his head and blinking.

“I looked you up. Former Captain of the Northumberland Fusiliers. Dedicated serviceman, injured when rescuing a fellow soldier. Should have won a service medal for that. You are not only an admirable man of character, but someone that Sherlock Holmes wants to spend time with. You really should be honored, and he will be better for knowing you. “ Greg takes the drinks and gives one to John who as finished his and is staring at his empty glass. “And this is definitely the drink talking but I must say, you’re not terrible on the eyes.”

“I have a girlfriend” John blurts.

“I had a wife so there’s that.” Greg winks at John.

John can only stare back at Gregory and gulp down his drink. Yes he was bisexual but was Greg flirting with him on Sherlock’s behalf? When Sherlock remembered his life, he’d never be interested in John.

“Issh should text him.” John slurs a bit.

“You should.” Greg grins at him.

“Here I go.”

_**shut lock how r u?** _

_John I’m fine, you’re drinking? SH_

_**I’m fun** _

_**fine __**_

_Say hello to Gregory for me. SH_

_**Yes I will. Thinks Im pretty. I think ur party** _

_I see, go home John you’ve had enough for one evening. You’re brother would be oddly proud SH_

_**Whyd you sign these. Sis would be** _

_Sister, always something. Go home to sleep it off John, I prefer sober doctors. SH_

John Watson smiles to himself and looks up at Greg.

“So?”

“I should go home, Sherlock’s orders” John says standing and extending his hand to shake Greg’s. Greg hands him a card.  


“Here’s my info if you want anyone to vent over Sherlock and his quirks. The Holmes brothers are a tricky lot.”  


“I was a soldier, I think I can take it”

“Right. Good night John.” Greg says patting him on the back and returning to his friends. John finds a cab and returns to lonely beige room and collapses only after sending one last daring text.

* * *

“ouch fuck” John mumbles to himself and squints at the light streaming in through the small window in his room. He blearily fumbles for his phone and swears again at the text exchange between he and Sherlock. His last words being

_**i prefer** _

_John Watson go to sleep SH_

How was even going to end that sentence he didn’t know and that really worried him. He makes his way to throw up in the bathroom and cleans himself up. As he is pulling on his clothes he hears the text message noise and picks up his phone.

_How are you this sunny morning John SH_

_**Green and Gritty** _

_Not going to blame Gregory? SH_

_**I drank the very good drinks he bought me. Should have stopped at one. Own fault** _

_I am not pretty John. Handsome would be more accurate, besides you have a girlfriend. SH_

_**I do, and I’m a dumpy old man compared to you** _

_Are you fishing for compliments John? SH_

_**No** _

_I could give you plenty. Why did you text me? SH_

_**I’m no longer scared of your brother.** _

_You surprise me John. SH_

_**Call me anytime you need someone to talk to** _

_I prefer to text now that I can, what do you prefer? SH_

John knew Sherlock was trying to get behind John’s last text the night before. So John answered truthfully as he could.

_**No idea** _

With that though there was no more from Sherlock and John made his the dreaded call he had gotten sufficiently drunk enough for, the hangover was more than enough punishment for what he was going to do. He called Sarah and told her that he was sorry that he didn’t want to string her along and they shouldn’t be together anymore. Sarah took it well, admitting that they were more like brother and sister than lovers. They reassured each other that it wouldn’t be awkward, but knowing it was lies. Silently agreeing to avoid each other.

When John returned to work next he was studying some lab results in a shared office space when there was a tap on the door frame. He looked up to see Mycroft Holmes.

“Doctor Watson” Mycroft exhales with annoyance.

“Mr. Holmes what can I do for you today?” asked with a huff folding his hands and giving an awkward smile.

“I came to see you about my brother.” Mycroft says entering the office and settling himself in the chair across from John.

“I’ve guessed that as much,” John says with an amused chuckle, “didn’t think it was a social call.”

“He came to see you.” Mycroft began.

“Yes he came to the hospital. He was very upset about what happened yesterday, he sought me out himself.” John smirks.

“Yes, Gregory’s ill advised outing.” Mycroft rolls his eyes.

“Are you here to threaten me again? Cause frankly, it isn’t going to work.” John declares not missing the small flinch on Mycroft’s face.

“Doctor Watson I was expecting after Gregory’s call that Sherlock would disappear. That he would find a way to find drugs and use. He didn’t. He came home, he ate a full dinner without any prodding, and spent several hours playing his violin. He even said goodnight to me and went to bed at a decent hour. I take that as a small victory. Frankly threatening you has done nothing to sever the connection to each other.” Mycroft hums.

“Mycroft, why don’t you just get to the point? I have a lot of work to do and patients to look after.” John grumbles from his desk.

“Dr. Watson I am quite aware that my brother has been quite unhappy when you were removed as his doctor. After yesterday I have come to the conclusion that you are not as harmful as I first assessed. I worry though that the same cannot be said of my brother.”

“Why would you say that?” John blinks.

“Doctor Watson my brother has made more enemies than friends over the years and has viewed me as his arch enemy for longer than I remember. Yet he is my only living brother and I do care about his welfare, and yours for that matter. You need to read this.” Mycroft’s demeanor stiffens as he places a manilla folder in front of John.

“What is it?” John eyes the folder.

“The file on my brother, about his life before his current head injury. I think that once you read it you will have a better understanding of who my brother truly is, not this shell of a man who has been lounging around my spare bedroom. You see Doctor Watson, my brother is not someone who bothers with friends or…attachments” Mycroft smirks.

John looks at Sherlock’s brother, his smug expression, his aura of control and dominance that he has found irritating. He decides that he has more than enough from Mycroft Holmes.

“What of the man that he is now?” John asks folding his hands under his chin, elbows on the desk.

“Excuse me?” Mycroft huffs.

“For someone who doesn’t bother, Sherlock appears very attached to me for some reason, 44 texts in a four day period. Seeking me out.” John states sitting back in his chair, revelling in his small triumph.

“Exactly my concern. Have you ever wondered why he lost precisely 19 years, not 5 years, not just weeks? Or he can’t remember any relationship he has developed but can remember information and facts?” Mycroft asks.

“Not really. The mind is too complex to even try and guess what a person will or will not remember.” John grins.

“There is an event that happened on the night Sherlock recalls as his last memory. Something that I could not prevent and it changed my brother’s whole outlook on trust and people. If you want to know more you should read this file and save yourself the trouble of getting involved with my brother.” Mycroft juts his chin and scowls at the smug doctor.

“No.” John says.

“Excuse me?” Mycroft’s eyes go wide.

“I’m tired of you telling me to stay away from him. I’ll find a new job or reenlist if you feel the need to end my employment here. Your brother, the most brilliant man I’ve ever known, he needs me and maybe I need him.” John says giving his homicidal smile. He scowled at Mycroft, waiting for the dismissal. 

Mycroft took a deep breath in and out and said, “Read the file John. If not for your own benefit but my brother’s.”

“And If I don’t?” John asks with a gasping inhale.

“You enter this friendship with Sherlock uniformed and it will most likely end in agony for the both of you. Don’t you think that my brother has gone through enough?” Mycroft states leaning forward, his knuckles white on the handle of his umbrella. John takes a moment to consider the file and how it would affect how he would consider Sherlock. “Doctor Watson?”

“Sorry just processing the fact that someone has a file on their own brother.” John says picking the folder up,keeping it closed.

“Information is what I do best John. I know more about you than you think. Trust issues, PTSD, a borderline eating disorder.” Mycroft smirks.

“Anything else Mycroft?” John says restraining himself from punching the man in his face. Mycroft stiffens and stands to leave. At the door he turns back to John.

“Read the file John.” he commands quietly and walks out.

John stares at the file. He snatches up angrily and shoves it in a desk drawer underneath pharmaceutical pamphlets and samples. He couldn’t bear to shred it, something niggled in the back of his brain, shouting at him to read the file.


	7. Tremor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John flirt/bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, cause I feel bad for slacking on writing. It's a bit dialog heavy. A nod to those pizza place promo pictures. Also more info about 'secondary drowning' http://www.webmd.com/parenting/news/20140602/dry-drowning-faq

Out of the corner of John’s eye a tall figure with moppy black hair was stomping his way down the sidewalk. He perked up when he saw that was in fact Sherlock that was walking by his favorite place for lunch. I gently tapped on the glass as he neared and he stopped smiled widely. He came inside and walked towards John.

“John Watson so good to see you.” he holds out his hand.

“How are you Sherlock? Brother finally loosening his reigns?” John asks wiping the pizza sauce off of his chin.

“Of course not, snuck out, wanted to relearn the streets of London on my own. I believe I have all of,” he pauses to check his watch, “thirty minutes before Gregory or my brother’s minions realize I am not where I am supposed to be.” Sherlock chuckles.

“Where should you be right now?” John asks taking another bite of his pizza.

“The morgue with Molly. But I felt a bit peckish.” Sherlock says waving a hand at John’s plate.

John eyed Sherlock and realized with a huff of laughter, “You somehow figured out where I eat on a regular basis and came looking for me, didn’t you?”

“Well John you are after all one of my few friends. I haven’t seen you for at least a week. You’ve been terribly bored without me.” Sherlock says stealing the crust off of John’s plate and taking a large bite and returning it to the plate.

“How are you feeling Sherlock?” John says batting Sherlock’s hand away before he could take the the other full piece.

“Ah you know, the um medication appears to finally be helping. My stomach was acting up over it for a while there.“ Sherlock says quietly as he wipes his hands on a napkin.

“I told you.” John states watching Sherlock closly.

“You were right John. Thank you. I’m better.” He moves to take something out of his inner pocket and puts a folded manila folder on the counter.

“What’s this?” John asks with a yelp. His eyebrows raise in concern.

“Well, I’ve been staring at these photos for quite a while and I can tell that she was suffocated in some way but I can’t see how.” Sherlock mumbles avoiding John’s eyes.

John opens the folder and begins to read. Early thirties, mother, wife, healthy despite having asthma. She was an avid swimmer. Had a somewhat happy marriage. She and her husband were going through couples therapy. 

“I want to suspect the husband, but he was in America at the time” Sherlock continues his hands running through his curls.

The woman wasn’t cheating and had very few enemies. John read through the interviews of her friends. When John read the witness accounts of the day of her death his head snapped up to look at Sherlock.

“Sherlock,” the man in question raised his head sharply, “she drowned.”

“John? How she was in the middle of her living room, her home locked, she wasn’t in the bath. It isn’t possible!” Sherlock shouts.

“Shhh,” John says looking around, “Sherlock according to this she had an asthma attack while swimming. Almost drowned. Almost being the key here. She most like inhaled a quantity of water, developed an embolism, and since she made it home, family out of town, she died. Secondary drowning is what is called. Have the coroner reexamine the lungs.”

“John you are amazing.” Sherlock whispers in awe.

“Not quite Sherlock.” John says taking another bite of pizza to hide his embarrassment.

“I could use your help on my cases.” Sherlock states shoving the folder back into his coat.

“I have a job Sherlock.” John exhales sadly.d

“Which bores you to tears.”

“Not all of us can be consulting detectives”

“True, thank you John for shedding light on this.” Sherlock says with a wink.

“You would have reached the same conclusion with a bit more time, I am sure.” John says grabbing gathering the remnants of his meal in a pile for disposal.

“I’m not.” Sherlock says taking the pile of garbage and binning it for John. When he returns he stands in front of John expectantly.

“Good to see you Sherlock.” John says putting his jacket back on.

“Mind if I walk with you?” Sherlock ask gesturing towards the door.

“Course not. Tell me more what a home life with your brother is like.” John commands as he leads the taller man out of the restaurant.

“How is your stomach?” Sherlock chuckles.

“Like steel.” John blurts.

The two men walk shoulder to shoulder with John looking at Sherlock like he has hung the stars, and the other looking at John like he was the sun. 

“Here we are.” Sherlock nods towards the doors of the hospital.

“Yeah. I have to see if you are truly banned or not. I did sort of forget to escort you out”

“I am, I did try and find you here. My face must be on some mass email and posted. I was quite out of control.” Sherlock shrugs, his cheeks pinking.

“With good reason. I’m sure I could, talk to someone.” John says with his own shrug of shoulders.

Sherlock takes in John’s bitten lip and raised eyebrows and sighs. “I think I’ll just stick to tracking your movements and showing up unexpectedly/”

John guffaws and turns to go, “See you later Sherlock.”

“Of course.” Sherlock says and John turns into the building. He doesn’t turn back as much as Sherlock wills it so. Sherlock sighs and turns to the road to hail a cab back home when he his met with man with an ear piece.

“Mr. Holmes.” the man growls.

“Ah of course. You’re only,” Sherlock takes a look at his watch, “10 minutes late. You must be slipping” 

“Get in the car Mr. Holmes.” the many grunts.

“Fine. Needed a ride home anyways. Might as well be on the commonwealth’s tab.” Sherlock says stepping into the black car only to inhale sharply at his company.

“For Gods’ sake Sherlock, I honestly don’t care that you leave, as long as you fucking tell me where you are going to be.” Gregory shouts at him.

“What more trouble could I possibly get into? I’m either at the morgue or my therapist, or at one of my doctors. Other than that I either with you or Mycroft. For God’s sake, the worst thing that could happen is that I die in an unknown freak accident, and that is just a chance I will take to get on with the rest of my life.” Sherlock exclaims in a hand waving stream.

“I just want you to be safe and happy Sherlock. When you do things like wandering off, your brother comes down hard on me and I will not allow your se;flishness ruin the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. I won’t. So fucking grow up and text me, call me, instant message me when you go somewhere so I’m not worrying that you are high in a flophouse or dead in the river. Please.” Greg mumbles and Sherlock can’t miss the sadness in his friend’s eyes.

“Thank you. I promise, I’ll tell you when I leave. So uhm, no warning me off John Watson?” Sherlock asks nervously.

“I did say I wanted your happiness, and if talking to John Watson makes you happy, I and your brother are more than happy to see you be friends.” 

“What have you done to my brother, have you found some illicit substance and drugged him? He never changes his mind.” Sherlock eyes Greg skeptically.

“John is no longer afraid of Mycroft, and Mycroft has finally realized that an ex-army doctor that enjoys your company, might just be good for you. Be John’s friend or whatever you want to be with him. Sherlock, just you know...tell me when you are going to visit him” Greg grumbles.

Sherlock is at a loss at what Greg has said to him. 

“I don’t know if...what?” Sherlock stumbles feeling the peaks of his ears heat up and ducks his head.

“Oh um. Nevermind that. Here we are. Sherlock, please listen to me.” Greg states as the car reaches the Holmes house. Sherlock gets out of the car leaving Gregory to return to work.

_Sherlock walks slowly into the home he shares with his brother and his partner. His head is spinning, working over and over what Gregory was implying about his relationship with John. John was his friend, his smart, kind, silly friend and nothing more._

_So it goes. Sherlock begins showing up regularly at John’s choice of mid day meal locations. He sends John several emails and texts about cases that he needs his expertise in. John talks to the security team at the hospital and invites Sherlock to join him in his rounds to build up Sherlocks medical knowledge. Molly, John, and Sherlock meet at a pub and share war stories, weird medical conditions, and Sherlock weaves stories of the people around them._

_When John doesn’t respond immediately to Sherlock’s texts Sherlock worries and wears a rut into the carpet of his room. When John does respond Sherlock relaxes immediately. He shares this information with his therapist and is given strategies to alleviate his anxiety._

_John realizes that he has been ignoring too many of Sherlock’s texts when his work begins to overwhelm him when Sherlock actually calls him and Sherlock’s breathy inquiry into his health._

“I’m just terribly busy Sherlock, it’s winter and there are a lot of accidents and deadly cases of influenza, I’ve rarely got a minute to myself.” John states rapidly signing a form handed to him.

“Of course John, I am very sorry. It was nothing.” Sherlock mumbles and continues his pacing down the long hallway between his room and the staircase.

“Sherlock, are you pacing?” John ask.

“NO,” Sherlock lies.

“Breathing exercises. Then a quick jog around the block, then bed, it’s, shit 1:30 am, go to bed Sherlock.” John blurts as he notices the time.

John listens to the man on the other end take a long inhale and exhale. 

“Thank you John. Tomorrow?” Sherlock asks quietly stopping mid stride.

“Sherlock, I’ll text you if I can. I don’t want to keep your hopes up if I can’t. Seriously people need to drive carefully and wash their hands, then I could guarantee a good long lunch with you. Please don’t show up here at the hospital either, you’ll just get sick yourself or distract me”

“I distract you?” Sherlock asks cheekily.

“I know you’re smirking there. Stop it. _Doctor Watson to Trauma Room 3, Doctor Watson to Trauma Room 3._ Gotta go Sherlock” click and John is gone.


	8. Twinge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock realize that they need each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your kind comments and kudos. I apologize for taking so long between updates and doing so without any sort of pattern. This truly a work in progress, but there is a general plan and direction. I don't always write with any sort of confidence, so thank you again and I am glad you are enjoying this.

Several days later finds John sleepily opening the door to his flat. The day had been long and mind numbing. Too much paperwork, too many stupid weekend injuries. 

He opened the door to his flat and threw his bag in the direction of his chair and jumped back at the grunt. He immediately raises his cane defensively and snaps on the light. 

“Good John, you’re home!” Sherlock mutters from his place sprawled over John’s couch.

“SHERLOCK?! WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?” John bellows lowering his arms and leaning on the cane.

“You need a better lock considering you have an illegal firearm in your night stand.” Sherlock smiles at him.

“What? I can’t even begin to understand why you think it is ok to one. break into my flat and two, go through my things.” John says stomping closer to Sherlock still spread over his couch.

“I was bored. I need your help with something, also you are out of sugar.” Sherlock sighs eyes closed, hands crossed over his stomach. John notes that Sherlock has also made himself at home with a a cup of tea.

“Sherlock what is it?” John ask trying not to throttle him.

“The gun was loaded. You live in a safe neighborhood with a doorman, who is unfortunately is easily manipulated. The average criminal would find it next to impossible to break in considering you live on the 15th floor. So I guess the real question should be, why do you have a loaded gun in your nightstand?” Sherlock spouts with a wave of his hands.

“You can’t deduce it? See it in the organization of my closet?” John huffs clenching both of his fists and shifting uncomfortably.

“You’re suffering from PTSD as well as depression.” Sherlock pauses to narrow his eyes at John in concentration, “even though you haven’t opened the drawer in several weeks. You’ve been distracted by something or someone? Have you broken up with your quote unquote girlfriend?”

John just stares at Sherlock. An angry embarrassed flush comes to his cheeks and ears. The pain returns in his leg and he drops to the chair across from him. This finally rouses Sherlock into sitting up to face him properly.

“Why do you have the gun john? You don’t give off the air of a suicidal person. I can’t figure it out and I need you to tell me.” Sherlock scowls at him.

“You said it PTSD. The gun serves as a reminder of my time in the army, that I mattered there, it is comforting to me.” John huffs, the lie coming easily to him. His therapist would be appalled.

“I would believe that if It wasn’t loaded and near your bed. It is worrisome to me. Perhaps you should be taking medication as well. Please tell me the truth John, you’re a terrible liar.” 

“Please Sherlock don’t.” John pleads, clasping and unclasping his hand.

“John you talked me down from a quite embarrassing panic attack rubbed my back and watched me cry I think that erases a certain level of boundaries between the two of us.” Sherlock murmurs.

With a sigh and eyes that have become fascinated with a fixed point on the carpet, “I have that gun because when I came back from Afghanistan, I had a job, a string of boring boyfriends and girlfriends, nightmares, a bloody limp, dead parents, an alcoholic sister, a terrible therapist, and possibly the most boring blog on the planet. The gun is what reminds me of the only thing I have left to lose.” John huffs near choking on his misery and mortification.

“And what do you have now?” Sherlock asks quietly.

“Well I still have my job, my boring blog, and now a really frustrating friendship with a former patient who happens to be the most brilliant man I know even with missing half of his life.” John says looking up finally and meeting Sherlock’s eyes.

“Is this your way of saying, you need me John?” Sherlock asks his own flush creeping up his neck.

“Perhaps.” John says weakly. He mentally slaps himself at his confession and the overwhelming want he feels for Sherlock. 

For a moment Sherlock’s eyes blink rapidly and John can’t help rapid swallowing he is doing.

“Well enough about you then. On to why I’m actually here.” Sherlock says standing and pacing back and forth.

John can’t help the relieved laugh that comes out of his mouth. He rubs his face and watches frantic Sherlock pace across the small room.

“So, I can’t tolerate being at Mycroft’s anymore. He won’t let me experiment like I want to and if I walk in on him and Gregory _In flagrante delicto_ one more time I swear to god I will kill them both.” Sherlock says with a sweep of his arms

“Well that’s unfortunate to picture in my head at this moment.” John mutters with a shake of his head.

“It is intolerable the way they both keep tabs on me. I’ve finally managed to get the key to my flat away from Mycroft.” Sherlock nods.

“Do I want to know how you managed that?” 

“I can pick locks remember? rather not do it on my own flat don’t want to scare the neighbors, Mycroft’s desk drawer was easier than expected for the work he does.”

“He didn’t figure out that it is gone? And if he keeping tabs on you won’t he know that you’re at your apartment?” John asks tiredly, he knows this can go wrong in so many ways.

“He’s currently somewhere out of the country for an unknown amount of time. Lestrade is easier to distract now that all I have to do is tell him I’m with you and he just nods. He’s not very good at figuring out when I lie.” Sherlock smiles proudly.

“Ah so you have the key to your flat. You’re just going to go over there and do what?” 

John just stares at Sherlock. He knows it will be good for him to be around his things but having to lie to do so and bring on the wrath of his brother was very concerning. John honestly wasn’t afraid of Mycroft Holmes anymore, he was more worried that the older man would isolate Sherlock further than he already was, and John knew that would only make Sherlock’s depression and issues dealing with his memory loss worse. 

“Oh, you’re coming with me.” Sherlock commands stopping finally to glare at John.

John’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in shock, “Are you sure? Maybe you’re therapist should be the one that goes with you, you know for support.”

“Of course I am sure John. It is almost as you are being deliberately thick. I don’t trust my therapist, especially since he is under Mycroft’s thumb, unlike another doctor I know. One that I trust.”

“I’m not a psychiatrist Sherlock.”

“You said it yourself doctor ‘ _It would be better if he is in his own home, around his neighborhood, with his own belongings_. Perhaps maybe I’ll remember something and Mycroft will let me live there again, possibly with a flatmate not that I know that many people anymore. I need to remember who I am John. Please will you come with me, help me?” Sherlock says biting his lip and not meeting John’s soft eyes.

“Ok, I’m off on Wednesday, barring any escalation of influenza.” John sighs, finding it difficult to resist when Sherlock gives him that lost look and says please.

“Fantastic!” Sherlock shouts, “the address is 221b Baker Street. See you at 11.” 

John just watches as Sherlock pulls on his jacket and is almost out the door before he turns, “This is my way of saying I need you too.” with a wink and out the door.

“Shit.” John says aloud to his empty apartment.

* * *

When John woke up on Wednesday morning it was with nervous anticipation. Sherlock hadn’t texted him since he had broken into his apartment two days ago. Two days since they had both confessed that they had needed the other. John knew he was desperately in danger of falling for Sherlock Holmes. He was resisting it with every cell in his body, knowing that Sherlock would remember his life someday. Despite all of Sherlock’s neediness, he was probably just lonely and not attracted to John in any way. If he was now, when he remembered his life he would also remember that he wasn’t interested in soft, broken, borderline suicidal doctors. John could do the friendship thing, it was safer for the both of them. 

He caught a cab to the address Sherlock had told him and took in the building before him. The apartment was just above a cozy sandwich place, it looked well maintained from the outside, despite the odd wiring running along the outside and the chicken wire on the railing next to the door. Two steps on the sidewalk and he heard another car stop behind him and he turned to see Sherlock stepping out. John couldn’t help but catch his breath at Sherlock’s opened dark navy and black striped dress shirt and dark denim, under that leather jacket of his. His hair was finally resembling the curly mop that he had arrived with in the ER and John had to smile at himself when Sherlock ran his hand over the side that was once shaved as he joined him in front of the door.

“John, you came.” Sherlock exhales.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” John says with a grin.

“Well, you do surprise me on occasion,” Sherlock smirks and pulls out a key and opens the door quietly, “shall we?”

John follows Sherlock quietly up the stair where unit B must be. John’s heart begins to beat frantically with worry over what Sherlock’s reaction might be and to what he might learn about the man who’s rather ample bottom John is trying to avoid staring at. Sherlock stops at the landing before the door that is marked with a faded yellow B.

“So, uherm, here we are.” Sherlock says with a shaky grin. He puts the key into the lock and slowly swings the door into the apartment. 

Dust motes fly into the dim air, only lit by the few rays of light from the windows. Sherlock immediately stomps towards the windows and fling open the drapes. John glances around quickly looking for lamps or overhead lighting to better see the home of Sherlock Holmes. Finding only one odd lamp he flicks it on and looks up to see a large display of tacked up display of pictures, articles, and odd notes tacked directly on a wall next to a large skull painting. He turns in the direction that he thinks Sherlock is in, finding him hunched over a desk with a computer open.

“It’s password protected!” Sherlock grumbles then spins around to stand in front of the fireplace.

“That, that’s a real human skull” John stutters walking up and lifting the skull delicately. He notes there are no markings of being an artifact or a specimen. John shuddered at where it might have come from.

“Oh, wow.” Sherlock murmurs and turns towards a tidy if cluttered kitchen. John watches as he eyes all of the scientific equipment, opens the empty refrigerator and wanders down a hall to what must be a bedroom. John slowly follows taking in the expensive microscope, the containers of caustic chemicals, the neatly piled scientific journals. John makes his way to the doorway of Sherlock’s room. Sherlock is standing before the closet with a hand on the door and is standing eerily silently. Without a word John steps in and moves to the other side to take a look. Inside were several dark suits similar to the one John remembers Sherlock arriving in at the hospital, followed by several shirts in white and light grey, one purple, one black, and one in a murky green.

“John I highly suspect that I was part time banker with these clothes.” Sherlock says worriedly.

“Maybe just a posh part-time model?” John asks.

“Hmmfp” Sherlock says shutting the door and making his way back to the sitting room. He flops down into a low burgundy flowery side chair and leans his head against the back of it, eyes closed. John sidles over leaning his cane against the squarish leather and metal chair sitting opposite. It is terrible on John’s leg and back but he finally finds a comfortable position with leaning forward and watching Sherlock’s reactions. John is relieved to see that Sherlock appears to be processing the information from his apartment in stride. His complexion is calm, his breathing is regular, and he isn’t pacing.

“Why do I even have two chairs?” Sherlock asks eyes still closed, “this one is awfully comfortable.”  
Before John can answer with any sort of speculation a loud “Yoo, hoo.” comes up the stairwell and the open door. Soon an elderly woman in a purple dress comes in with a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Sherlock! I was hoping it was you and not just your brother. How are you feeling dear with the whole amnesia business?” she asks.

“I don’t know who you are or why you are bringing me tea.” Sherlock says warily. John snorts in amusement.

“Mrs. Hudson, landlady but not your housekeeper. Now who is this handsome man here?” Mrs. Hudson ask pouring two cups of tea and handing the first to John.

“John, Dr. John Watson. Very nice to meet you.” John says standing awkwardly holding out his hand to shake Mrs. Hudson’s.

“Oooh a Dr., how fortunate. Are the two of you moving in together? There is an extra bedroom upstairs if you will be needing one?” she asks as John flops back down into the chair.

“Ahh no I have an apartment. We’re not together.” John says eying Sherlock who is staring at the elderly woman with his mouth slightly open.

“Oh it takes all sorts. Sherlock has always been a bit isolated so it is nice to see him have a friend, you know Mrs. Turner has married ones next door.” she says situating herself on the couch.

“Mrs. Hudson, I’m merely reacquainting myself to part of my life. Dr. Watson is my friend who offered to help me. We are not romantically involved. Thank you for the tea, if you would please let us continue with what we were doing.” Sherlock says.

Mrs. Hudson looks between the two men and nods. “Of course dear. Just let me know if you are returning permanently, with or without a guest.” She winks and quietly leaves and shuts the door.

“Ahh well she seems nice.” John says getting up and looking at the notes and pictures tacked to the wall above the couch.

“Former stripper and rampant user of cannabis, nice but a bit a gossipy busybody. Her familiarity with me suggests that I fill some maternal instinct in her, and since she still treats me with kindness indicates that I do not discourage her. I must like her.” Sherlock shrugs as he steps close to John, his chest against his shoulder.

“These are almost three months old.” John hums pointing towards the information tacked on the wall.

“Anything they were related to is either probably solved or gone cold. We could take them down.” Sherlock suggests.

“I’ll get an envelope and we can...” John starts and flinches at the sound of the front door opening below and a thunder of footsteps on the stairwell. The door is flung open by Mycroft, followed by Gregory and an very concerned Mrs. Hudson.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!” Mycroft shouts at the two men.

“John?” Lestrade asks a hurt and worried look upon his face.

John is silent, he watches Sherlock’s reaction to being caught. He notes the curled shoulders, the tight mouth, the clenched hands. 

“GPS.” Sherlock mutters and closes his eyes in realization.

“Mycroft calm down, perhaps some tea?” Mrs. Hudson asks fluttering her hands.

“Not now Mrs. Hudson, my brother and I are leaving.” Mycroft declares breathing heavily. Gregory has a hand tucked into the crook of his elbow holding him back.

“It is his home Mycroft Holmes, he should be able stay. He must miss it; his experiments and things and I miss him. Even if he can’t be bothered to remember me.” Mrs. Hudson says crossing her arms and scowling at both of the Holmes brothers in turn.

“John, how could you let him do this?” Gregory growls through gritted teeth turning toward John and entering his personal space. As he let go of Mycroft John watched the elder Holmes stalk towards his brother.

“He needed me Gregory, I came.” John says with a shrug of shoulders keeping an eye on Sherlock. Sherlock’s body language still one of a scolded child.

“I knew it was a mistake allowing you even breathe the same air as Sherlock. Doctor I trusted you to keep him safe and you allowed him to go to the one place I don’t want him to be.” Mycroft bellows his cheeks flushed in red. This sends Mrs. Hudson running towards the couch.

“Allowed? He was fine. It is as if you think of him as a child, that you don’t even want him to remember anything. This is good place for him!” John shouts back at Mycroft. Greg holds up a hand to keep John from getting at Mycroft.

“Sherlock dear do you remember this? You got it after you helped that orphanage.” Mrs. Hudson holds out a crystal bee figurine to him. Sherlock merely shakes his head without a word. He had moved behind the red chair and is gripping the top of it tightly. 

“Sherlock Holmes get in the bloody car.” Mycroft says stepping closer.

John watches over Gregory’s shoulder not really taking in his words. He sees his friends hands begin to shake as he retreats into the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson follows and Sherlock isn’t responding to Mrs. Hudson’s prattling about her hip and how much she has missed him, or his brothers louder shouts of him acting like a child. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Mycroft and Lestrade ask in near unison. The second John’s eyes leave Sherlock to focus on Gregory’s words an enormous crash comes from the kitchen area sending Mrs. Hudson back out behind the three men.

John and the other two men quickly move to the kitchen threshold and freeze. Sherlock had upended the entire table, chemicals, equipment, and all. It had caused the smaller raised table to topple over as well causing all of the lab glassware to shatter. Sherlock was slumped against the cabinets, head in shaking hands, the room silent except for his labored breathing.

“Right, OUT all of you.” John shouts, “Mrs. Hudson do you know if he has a broom somewhere?”

“I think not, I’ll bring one up.” She says shakily. John looks at the frozen forms of Gregory and Mycroft and is only mildly soften by Mycroft’s watery eyes.

“GO. He was doing perfectly fine until you two showed up. Go away.” John says picking his way backward toward Sherlock.

“Myc come on. Let John take care of him.” Gregory says quietly taking his arm.

“Doctor Watson I didn’t...” Mycroft sputters as he is pulled back by his partner.

“Just go.” John says dropping down on a knee next to Sherlock and watches them go.

They leave just was Mrs. Hudson comes back in with a broom and pan, plus some bags. She places them as close to the men as she can without crunching on debris, “Here you are dear. Oh Sherlock.”

“Thank you Mrs. Hudson, I’ll let you know if we need anything else.” John says hands hovering over Sherlock’s shoulders, afraid to touch him yet. He doesn’t look back as she leaves and closes the door.

“Sherlock, hey Sherlock, they’re gone. You’re okay.” John says quietly and places a hand on eac of Sherlock’s shoulders.

“I’m not I’m really not am I John? I have all this information in my head, yet I have no real idea of who I am. I don’t know what half of this equipment does in here, and most of those books were published in the last 5 years, John I don’t know who I am anymore and I just. Why can’t I remember who I am?” Sherlock says raising his head to look at John.

John takes a moment to answer Sherlock with something he hasn’t already heard by his doctor and his therapist. He listens to Sherlock take several deep breaths in and out and just rubs his shoulder with his thumb. He glances at the chemicals bubbling on the floor all of the shattered glass and the now broken equipment and sighs. He says what he thinks he would want someone to say to him if he was in Sherlock’s predicament.

“You are Sherlock Holmes formerly of 221B Baker Street. You are 38 years old. You suffered a traumatic brain injury. You help the Scotland Yard solve crimes, and you are brilliant beyond words at it. You are my friend and I want you to be happy. If you remember your life someday you might be happy, but if not maybe you will just have to be happy with the one you have now. Be the man you are Sherlock, not the man you thought you were.” John says quietly. 

Sherlock looks up finally at those words and grimaces looking at the destruction around him. “Thank you John that was, that was, you are,” Sherlock stops to wipe the errant tear that had fallen down his cheek, “I’m terrible at this it appears that I cannot think of a way to say that what you said was good.”

“I meant it,” John stands and extends a hand to Sherlock, “why don’t you either sit or lie down, I’ll clean this up a bit and we’ll see where the day takes us, hm?”

“I should do it,” Sherlock says sighing, “it is my mess.”

“Sherlock, let me, please?” John asks pulling the man out of the debris and then pushing him in the direction of the low couch.

“Thank you _doctor_ ” Sherlock grins over his shoulder and then sits, “if there is bicarbonate in one of the cabinets, it will help clean up the spills. Sorry about that.”

John bites his lip and watches as Sherlock flops down with his back to the room.

“Right.” John mutters and turns back to the epic mess in the kitchen. 

John spends the next several hours cleaning. Finding thick rubber gloves for the broken items and the mentioned bicarbonate for the acid which had eaten the linoleum. He periodically checks on Sherlock who had mercifully fallen asleep and was snoring quietly. The light was growing dim and when John looked up at his phone after putting the last of the bags on the landing to take out later, it was early evening and he was starving. Sherlock was still sound asleep. John took the bags down and out to the bins and knocked on Mrs. Hudson’s door.

“Hello John. Everything alright?” he asks.

“Ahh Mrs. Hudson, yes got everything cleaned up. I hate to bother you but, uhm, I wanted to get some things for packing and what not. I don’t want Sherlock to wake up and find himself alone. Could you go up for a bit? Shouldn’t be more than thirty minutes.” John says giving his best smile.

“Of course dear. He’s not doing so well is he?” Mrs. Hudson sighs.

“Oh I think you’ll find him back here sooner than you think. I think it was a bit much having his brother yelling at him. On top of everything he was trying to process up there.” John grimaces.

“Well good to hear, I wasn’t lying about the second bedroom.” 

“Ah, well. Do you have a key so I could get back in?”

“You’re good man John.” Mrs. Hudson smiles at him as she hands him a key.

“Just being a good friend.” John says smiling back.


	9. Strain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft apologizes, Sherlock asks John to move in, John decides...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in a desperate need of body positive John Watson. Sure he is mortified by his limp, but his body is banging and his scar was earned in combat. Sherlock wants it.

John makes good on his promise by being back quickly with not only boxes but tea and hot sandwiches and soup at the shop below the apartment. When he makes his way up the stairs he is surprised to see Sherlock still asleep on the couch. Mrs. Hudson quietly takes the key back and walks back down to hers.

“You’re fake sleeping I can tell Sherlock. That’s not very nice.” John scolds standing inches from his head.

“You’re more observant that I thought then, fooled her. Do I smell food?” Sherlock says turning over and sitting up. John nods shaking the bag, and turning towards the kitchen.

“Also I have things if you want to box anything up, you know if all of this,” John gestures towards the books and papers piled everywhere, “is upsetting for you. 

“Thank you John.” Sherlock says getting up and blinking owlishly at the restored kitchen.

“All back to rights. Sadly you lost a nice microscope and some electronic probes were damaged by the chemicals.” John says taking out the soup and sandwiches and finding plates and the kettle. 

“John you didn’t have to do all of this. I am very sorry that I made your day off into a day of servitude.” Sherlock mumbles unwrapping one the sandwiches and examining the contents.

“We’re friends right? We tell each other that we needed the other. Someday I might need you to I don’t know, save my life.” John says with a shrug.

They finish their meal in a comfortable silence and John puts together few boxes. Sherlock begins with the overflowing book shelves and begins a pile of the books and papers to pack. The two work for several hours until John groans and checks the time. He looks at Sherlock as he is plucking items off the wall and putting them in a large envelope.

“Uherm Sherlock, I am exhausted and I have work tomorrow, are you staying?” John asks rubbing the back of his head tiredly.

Sherlock looks at John as if he has forgotten he was there. “No, I.” he begins stepping off of the couch and putting the envelope on the table. John watches Sherlock’s eyes dart around the room and finally settle in a vague area around John’s knees. 

“What is it Sherlock? You look upset Are you alright?” John asks swaying side to side. 

“I don’t want to go back to my brother’s he may not be the most welcoming. I don’t want to stay here by myself. I won’t ask you to sleep on the couch cause of your shoulder. The bedroom upstairs appears to be no longer serving as such as it is filled with boxes and we are just adding to the mess. I feel that inviting myself over to yours would be rude. So I am seriously considering asking to bunk down with Mrs. Hudson, but she probably has an incredibly small couch and she has _cats_. I don’t...” he stops when John holds up a hand.

“If you would feel better sleeping on my couch and wouldn’t mind me possibly waking you up at 5:30 in the morning I don’t see why you couldn’t be my guest for the night.” 

“John? I don’t want to put you out. Are you sure?” Sherlock stammers.

“If it gets me home and into my own bed, yes. I am absolutely exhausted and just done with this day. Sherlock the number of times I’ve had to drag my sister home to mine and have her sick with alcohol on my couch, you will be a thousand times more welcome. Just check if you have anything to bring to sleep in and lets get out of here. I have extra toothbrushes.” John blurts exasperatedly. Sherlock spins into his room and comes out with a pile of clothes.

“Ready.” Sherlock announces.

John and Sherlock spend the cab ride in silence, that theme continues as John sets up the couch for his guest. Worrying about Sherlock and the consequences of what the two have done that will come from his brother tire John. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and Sherlock is similarly disinclined. Tomorrow would hopefully bring clearer minds.

“Bathroom’s just down there. Need anything?”

“Good night John, thank you.”

* * *

John wakes up the following morning and makes his way into the shower, ignoring Sherlock’s sleeping form. Before he had his shower and his tea, he wasn’t going to be all the social. He was sore from lugging items up and down the stairs. When he exited the bathroom only in a towel he stopped at the stuttered inhale from the kitchen he turns to see Sherlock staring at him, an empty mug tipped towards the floor, mouth open.

He gives himself a mental pat on his back. He was still in decent shape from all of the work he did at the hospital. What little weight work he could do with his shoulder had resulted in the maintenance of his former service physique. His scar could be off putting for some people, but since he had earned it in the service of his country he couldn’t care less. It was his limp and the nerve damage that bothered him the most. Sherlock did not mind either.

“Morning Sherlock, could you flick the kettle on? Need anything? Bathroom’s all yours.” John murmurs eyeing the thin glimpse of pale skin above Sherlock’s lounge pants.

“Yyyyyou were shot from behind leaning over someone!” Sherlock stutter shouts. 

“Hmm. Right as ever Sherlock. I’m getting dressed make yourself something, I have eggs. Just yell if need something.” John grins at his still gobsmacked guest and turns towards his room to get ready for his day.

When John exits his room Sherlock is still in the clothes he wore to sleep, yet there is a plate of warm toast next to John’s travel mug that is full when he checks it. He doesn’t bother to ask how the other man knows how he takes his tea and toast. Sherlock is laying on the couch with his hands clasped under his chin, like the last time he found Sherlock on his couch.

“Sherlock? I have to go. You’re welcome to stay. I’ve got a spare key there in the vase by your head,” there’s is no response and John walks closer. He stares down at Sherlock, “Hey, was the toast for me?” he prods with a poke to the shoulder.

“Sorry. Yes John, you’ve got work. Spare key in the vase if I need to leave. Got it. Have a good day. Yes, I felt like as your guest I could provide some sort of compensation for my stay and your manual labor of yesterday.” Sherlock relays, hands never leaving his chin, eyes never meeting John’s.

“Thanks, If you need something, call me.” John says grabbing the mug and a piece of toast. 

“I prefer to text.” Sherlock sighs.

* * *

As Sherlock sprawled there in the comfort of Doctor Watson’s home he began he was hopelessly doomed. Sherlock thought about what knew about romantic relationships and how he thought about them. No boyfriends, no girlfriends he could remember. Sure he had some friends, and the girls appeared to like his curls, but he was more focused on school than sex. He found the trivialities of his classmates exhausting. Yet, he knew how to use his looks to his advantage, not having applied them to another person with any sincerity. Or that is, as far as he could remember. Then there was John and his easy smile, his scared but solid body, and Sherlock felt a pleasant if unfamiliar want. 

His sexual crisis was interrupted by a firm knock on the door. Jumping up with annoyance knowing who was at the door.

“Open the door Sherlock. I am merely being polite by knocking.” Mycroft sighs waving a hand at the door viewer. Sherlock opens the door and walks back to sit at the small kitchen table. Mycroft wanders in and glances around at John’s neat apartment. Eyeing the unmade pile of blankets and pillows on the couch.

“You slept on the couch. How quaint.”

“Mycroft. You lectures on my behavior have become quite tedious.” Sherlock grumbles.

“Sherlock I am merely here because I want to tell you that I regret my actions of yesterday.” Mycroft says as he takes the opposite chair.

“Apologizing that is new.”

“You are my brother. I do care for your well being. I overreacted.”

“Just a bit, just like mummy.”

“John Watson has proven himself to be someone that I approve that you associate with. He would make a fine roommate, definitely doesn’t share your, clutter.” Mycroft says taking another sweep around John’s spotless kitchen.

“I don’t need a roommate Mycroft.”

Mycroft ignores the fact that Sherlock hasn’t acknowledge that he is forgiven, nor did he expect it. He trudges on changing the subject. “Your stay here proves otherwise,” Mycroft declares and Sherlock’s head lowers, and stays down, “If John Watson is what you think you need right now, I will do my best to not interfere.”

“I doubt that.” Sherlock stands and walks to the couch escaping his brother’s scrutiny. 

“Believe it or not brother, it distresses me to see you in pain.” Mycroft follows to stand in front of his brother who was flopped sideways with his back to him.

“Thank you. Mycroft, I’m sure I’ll be back round to collect my things.” Sherlock tries confidently.

“You haven’t asked if Dr. Watson wants you as a roommate. He looks perfectly happy on his own.” Mycroft smirks and heads towards the door.

Mycroft’s exit is met with icy silence. Sherlock goes back to his previous pose and begins to think of ways to convince one John Watson into sharing an apartment with him.

* * *

Sherlock was not the only person that Mycroft apologized to on that day. He opened the door to John’s office without knocking.

“Mycroft! What the hell?!” John sputters putting down the sandwich he was trying to eat during his very short break.

“I am sorry to disturb you _Doctor Watson_ I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday.” Mycroft states sitting.

“I see.” He is still furious with Mycroft Holmes and his overbearing management of his brother.

“I don’t think you truly do. You were right, I don’t want Sherlock to remember. I don’t want him to remember what happened to him, the betrayal that caused him to sever connections to other people. I don’t want him to remember that he smoked several packs of cigarettes a day, I don’t want him to remember that I had to haul him out of many different seedy flats amongst other strung out addicts. I do not want my brother to realize that he is lonely. I keep wanting to protect my brother no matter how tedious it may be. If it is wrong to want to protect him, I am very, very wrong.” Mycroft declares in one long breath. His eyes never leave John’s.

“Thank you for your apology Mycroft. But don’t you see? He is completely distraught that he can’t remember his life! He wants to know what his life has become, even if it was terrible. Why would you deny something that is so inherently necessary to ones being, to know who they are? Did you see your brother yesterday? He wants to be back in his own home. We’ve boxed things up that he found unnecessary. He’s doing well with the work he does with Gregory, which I am sure he has shared with you. If he remembers his life, I think he would be happier and better at everything.” John emphatically states, returning Mycroft’s glare.

“You need to understand the person you are dealing with. This is why I wanted you to read the file I gave you Doctor Watson. ”

“I still have it. I don’t know if I’ll ever need to read it. I know the person I’m dealing with. Sherlock is the person he is, I can’t base what I know of him on who he was.”

“My brother I suspect will ask you to move in with him very soon. I think that you have more than enough reason to read it now Doctor Watson.” 

“What? why would he do that?” John smiles uncomfortably.

“Apparently my brother has become quite attached to you. I do not entirely disapprove.” Mycroft smiles weakly then continues, “So will my brother be spending another night on your couch? Making you toast?”

“How’d you even…? Just, I have no idea.” John splutters. He was used to Sherlock basically reading his mind, he didn’t think his brother could as well.

“Very well Doctor Watson I have done what I can to inform and protect you. _Caveat Emptor_ Here is my card. Call me if you feel overwhelmed. Should I send his things over?” Mycroft said handing over his card with a smirk.

“Let your brother decide what he wants. We don’t want to hurt Sherlock unnecessarily.” John says standing as Mycroft does.

“Part of your oath?”

“Part of being his friend.”

“ahh friendship is what we’re calling it now. I should expect the happy announcement at the end of the week. Good day John. Do keep in touch.”

John sits staring at the door wondering how he will ever get used to the Holmes brothers.

* * *

Hours later as he wondering what he is going to find when he returns home, how he can handle Sherlock lazing around his apartment again, smelling of his soap when his day dream is interrupted by his text alert. He smiles.

_My brother has come to see you SH_

**Yes**

_He also came to your apartment SH_

**Oh, did he threaten to drag you away back home?**

_Surprisingly No. He suggested I get a roommate if I plan on moving out, he suggested you. SH_

**I have an apartment Sherlock**

_Which is boring, not convenient, and doesn’t allow you to have the dog you so desperately want SH_

John shakes his head and rubs his face in amazement.

**Can’t have one anyway too busy.**

_John you’d be a welcome addition to my work. You would be closer to your own job, the rent would be significantly cheaper I am sure, a nosy landlady who would bring us food, the pleasure of my company, what more could you want?SH_

**Sherlock, let me think about it.**

_I will not be held accountable for my actions. I may just move in here. No available memories, might accidentally set fire to the drab place. SH_

**Sherlock Holmes you keep your pyromaniac tendencies far away from my things. Go take a walk. When I am home we can discuss this like two adults. I won’t be bullied into this.**

_Fine. I’ll go visit Molly. 7? I’ll pick up food SH_

**Yes. Thank you.**

John went on with his day considering Sherlock’s offer. They were friends first weren’t they? Oh how he wanted, how he wanted to be with Sherlock, but he couldn’t get past the doubt that what Sherlock felt for him was anything more than need of a friend and doctor. The guilt and hesitation that clawed at John’s throat was suffocating. It was doing quite a number on his mental state. 

Still, the way that Sherlock looked at him that morning was revealing. The nervous shouting, the pointed staring. Sure, Sherlock had flirted with John ever since they had met, yet never acted on it, never was his interest so blatant as that morning. Perhaps living as roommates would build to something more. Sherlock would learn that John was not always the strong former Army Captain, that he had his own nightmares, that he had bursts of anger and he would realize that it wasn’t something that he wanted to pursue. John, above all, didn’t want to hurt Sherlock. 

John thought of the file, still unopened since receiving it. He had a feeling that inside would be all the terrible things Sherlock had done to his body when he was using. The physical things that drugs did to a body were easier to think about than the the things that Sherlock might have done when on them or to get them. What had happened to a nineteen year old Sherlock that made him unfriendly, and antisocial? Sherlock wasn’t the same person he was before losing his memory, he was the person that John was fascinated by not the drug user.

He thought about what his life at Baker Street would be like. He’d never be bored, he’d be able to save money on transportation since his leg didn’t appear to be bothering him as much anymore, he could walk to work if motivated. 

From the state of the flat Sherlock had only used the second bedroom as storage for a barrage of broken equipment, mounds of paperwork, and mobile computers of every make and model created since 2001. He obviously had no financial need for one nor the desire to share it with anyone other than the visits from Mrs. Hudson. 

The real question was coming down to would John be able to deal with the fact that Sherlock might no longer want anything to do with him if he remembered he didn’t ‘like’ people, especially nice boring doctors.

His phone pinged shaking him out of his funk.

_Cheese or Pepperoni? SH_

**What?**

_I’m picking up dinner for us like I said, it more polite to ask than assume SH_

**You’ve ordered already haven’t you?**

_You’ve already decided about being a roommate to a certain amnesiatic consulting detective SH_

John stares at his phone and realizes with a sharp intake of breath that he has. He finally admitted to himself that despite his dating Sarah, and his ‘work friendships’ he was terribly lonely. His former patient was the most exciting thing that had happened to him in ages. He felt a profound connection to Sherlock and he might actually want to be his friend. Maybe, just maybe he would still want to be John’s friend if he remembered his life. 

**You are an amazingly annoying bastard. More boxes then?**

_Only one or two. I don’t have much at my brother’s SH_

**Will you help me with mine?**

_Someone has to decide which sweaters should be retained in you wardrobe. Not a big fan of those sleeveless cardigans. Makes you look my grandfather. SH_

John flushed in embarrassment. He knew he was several years older than Sherlock, he didn’t need reminding. 

**Oi, I’m not that old! See you soon.**

_John, we will keep the black and white striped one. You look younger in that one. SH_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come and visit me on tumblr [brokenlibrarygirl](http://brokenlibrarygirl.tumblr.com/)


	10. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John enter in a mishmash of pilot A Study in Pink / and aired A Study in Pink. They also decide what they want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I incorporated a lot of cannon dialogue, which bothers me, but it is my first endeavor into canon Sherlock, I felt the writer's dialogue was needed. I don't own this or make money from this, forgive me.

John Watson moved into 221b and life continued. Sherlock continued to present John with files and photos as they sat in opposite chairs. Sherlock adjusted his sleep schedule to every change in John’s work schedule. They talked of John’s time in Afghanistan and how Sherlock grew up with a brilliant mathematician for a mother, and his reluctantly admitted smarter brother, and a father who loved him to no end. John spoke of his sister who was slowly killing herself with alcohol and his fears of never escaping his nightmares. Sherlock began playing his violin for John, sad slow melancholy songs that made John worry for Sherlock.

Sherlock became happier with the near constant work. When he was at a loss John would find him either curled up on the couch with his back to the room, or gruesome case files set before him. John helped as best he could without being there. He yearned when cases presented themselves and he was left alone. He stopped dating all together. Only made worse when Sherlock begin a worrisome habit of disregarding John’s personal space, and the bloody winking.

Reading the paper, reading an article about some suicides that had occured all in the same way, he could only admire his flatmate. Partners and loved ones had been saying that it couldn’t be possible for the person to have truly committed the act. John scowled. Killing oneself was always a well planned act, plently of clues, signs, not usually impulsive. He had done the same in those months after his recovery. Sherlock had seen it. 

A flurrry of activity from Sherlock’s room made Jon’s eyes look up from his paper. In the hallway between the kitchen and Sherlock’s room stood a figure that John barely recognized. Hunched shoulders, baggy clothes, and greying hair. He rose to his feet in a defensive stance.

“John it’s me. I have work to do.”

“Why are you dressed like that?”

“Press conference.” 

“Press conference?” John blinks with confusion, and Sherlock rolls his eyes at him.

“Those alleged suicides aren’t suicides. I have discovered over the last several months that Gregory and his team are often times quite incompetent. They shouldn’t be spreading false information to the public.” he smirks and swings out of the door. 

John just shakes his head and finishes his coffee and begins his day. He doesn’t think of the suicides or why Sherlock felt the need to wear a disguise. He thinks about how boring his job was becoming. Sure it was interesting enough with the different types of trauma, there were always weird ways people found themselves in the A&E but, it begin to feel the same old same old, not the same as helping Sherlock. Blood, tears, death, it was becoming less interest the more he helped Sherlock determine cause of death, or why someone would act in a certain way. He needed a job, but he was bored. He still had very little to write in his blog and Ella was frustrated with his lack of progress on his blog. He was staring at the blank template, the next morning as Sherlock plucked at his violin in front of the windows when Mrs. Hudson came in morning tea.

“What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that’d be right up your street. Three exactly the same.”

“There’s been a fourth, and there’s something different this time.” He mumbles. John’s head perked up at this just as Gregory Lestrade throws himself into the room without a knock or ring of the bell.

“Where?” Sherlock asks without pause.

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.” Greg states slightly out of breath completely ignoring John who is watching with interest.

“What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different.”

“You know how they never leave notes?”

“Yeah.”

“This one did. Will you come?” 

Sherlock shoots John a look in consideration, “John, you’re looking quite bored as of late, you’ve seen plenty of dead bodies? Care to see another?”

“Sherlock I don’t think….” Gregory trails off.

“Anderson despite his ability to hold his tongue and attempts at being pleasant, is still not up to par with the skills I require. John as you might be unaware, has become quite helpful. So John what will it be?”

“God yes.” John says pausing for his gun in the desk drawer, then grabbing his coat and trailing after Sherlock. He didn’t think twice about grabbing it after having to patch Sherlock up several times after cases. 

This is how John found himself later trailing after Sherlock as he dug through garbage looking for the lady’s pink case that he had insisted she had despite no evidence apparent to anyone but him. He also found himself gullibly texting the killer, and then following Sherlock to an Italian restaurant, where apparently the owner knew Sherlock.

“Sherlock! Anything on the menu for you and your date” the rather large furry man says clasping Sherlock in a one armed hug.

“I’m not his date.” John blurts averting his eyes. Sherlock who notices everything makes an attempt to explain.

“Angelo. This is Dr. John Watson. The man who treated me after my injury. John I found this address in some of my things. Apparently I helped Angelo here with a murder charge.” 

“You, you deserve many things for helping this great man. This man. He cleared my name.” Angelo says giving John a meaningful look.

“Apparently I cleared it just a bit. He was accused of murder when he was actually robbing a house across town. He’s been helpful filling in some gaps, in cases I had solved before and other social aspects of my life.” Sherlock says waving him away. John again can only marvel at what Sherlock had accomplished. So much the brain could not remember, so many things Sherlock had done.

“Doctor Watson, take care of my friend. A candle for the table much more romantic.” Angelo says sweeping away.

“This isn’t a date.” John mutters after him. Turning around he catches a strange look across Sherlock’s face. As he begins to open his mouth to ask him what is wrong the expression is gone Sherlock growls,

“John keep watching the street.”

“So did you bring many women here do you think? or men? which is fine by the way.” John awkwardly asks instead. He knows that this isn’t a date, but it is close to one as John could hope for. 

“I know it’s fine. Clearly you’re bisexual despite bringing no men and very few women home.” Sherlock squints somewhere behind John’s head, “I asked him, though, and he said that I never came here with anyone.” Sherlock states eyes lowering to the silverware then back up to the mirror behind John’s head. John doesn’t miss the pinking of Sherlock’s cheeks and rewards himself with a pointed look at Sherlock’s open collar and a lick of his own lips.

“Oh. What am I watching out for?” he asks once he has collected himself.

“Just eat your food John. I’m watching the mirror.”

“You’re not eating?” 

“Not terribly hungry, have a killer to catch. I’m thinking cabbie, why else would all these unrelated and apparently happy people just off themselves. Who do people trust and are virtually invisible. The London cab” Sherlock mutters. Having seen something in the mirror he get’s Angelo’s attention and orders a glass of wine which he promptly throws in his face. John can only watch in amazed horror.

“Just watch. Don’t come out.” turning to Angelo, “Angelo, if you would just toss me out.”

Angelo rolls up his sleeves and grabs Sherlock by the shoulders and yanks him roughly out of the chair. 

“Out of my restaurant! Cretino you’re drunk” he yells and drags him out the door, “and stay away!”

John and Angelo watch side by side as Sherlock weaves through the crowd and street in the direction of a cab that is waiting on the curb across the street and begins banging on the window. Neither can hear what he is saying.

“What is he doing?” John asks helplessly.

“Bad news for bad people.” Angelo nods.

John watches as Sherlock suddenly slumps into the arms of the cab driver and is pushed into the back seat. He knows something isn’t right by the way Sherlock’s head turns in the direction of the restaurant. 

“Something’s gone wrong.” John blurts reaching for his coat as he watches the cab pull away. He runs past Angelo shaking his head.

* * *

John couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Sherlock slumped in a chair casually bringing a pill of unknown content up to his lips. Sitting across from the cab driver who was pointing a gun. The decision was made as the pill was centimeters away from Sherlock’s mouth. The gun was the bottom of the Thames and John was back to watching from a distance Sherlock talk to Gregory. When suddenly they made eye contact and Sherlock walked towards him. 

Of course Sherlock knew it was him, he could barely get away with eating the cookies Sherlock liked without him knowing, killing someone must have been written all over his face.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asks

“Yes.”

“You have just killed a man”

“I’ll sleep fine tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“Starving” 

“Chinese? it is open til 2, probably won’t be getting back inside til tomorrow.” Sherl cas as he and John make their way down the street.

“Sherlock!” Greg calls walking closer, “I still have to finish questioning you.”

“Greg I know Sherlock hasn’t eaten all day, I think after the trauma of today he deserves a good meal and rest. As a doctor I insist.” John commands with a slight smile playing at his mouth.

“And only a fool argues with his doctor. Goodnight, I will be in early tomorrow.” Sherlock turns abruptly and flings the orange blanket in Gregory’s general direction.

“John make sure he comes in before noon?” Greg calls after them

“Of course.” John can’t help the snicker. Like he could get his flatmate to do anything he didn’t want to do. He turns to chase the man down.

* * *

After Sherlock’s long and overy extensive explanation of about how the bottom of third of the door handle indicated the food was excellent at the particular restaurant at the end of the street they tucked themselves into a table in a darkened corner.

“Only a fool argues with his doctor. Christ Sherlock!” John chuckles.

“I had to get us out of there, I am indeed starving.” Sherlock mutters and shoves a dumpling in his mouth.

“Mrs. Hudson may never forgive us.”

“John, it’s not the first time she’s had to scrub mysterious substances out of the carpet. I’ll find some rooms for us. Eat John.” Sherlock commands.

“I’m not the one who hasn’t eaten anything all day. 

“I was busy. 

“So was I, but even I at least ate some of the pasta.” John grumbles.

“I’m finding that eating during cases tends to distract me and slows me down.” Sherlock mutters with a dismissive wave of a chopstick.

“I will probably worry regardless of your excuses.” 

The two men eat ravenously in a contented silence. Sly glances and smiles of contentment shared. As their plates began to clear, the waitress drops off a small plate of fortune cookies and the bill.

“What you did tonight, John, thank you.” Sherlock says quietly. 

“You don’t have to thank me Sherlock,” John blushes and licks his lip, “Fortune cookies!” John grins and snorts out a laugh after cracking open one and reading silently.

“Not terribly exciting, not exceptionally palatable.” Sherlock rolls his eyes.

“ _Everyone agrees you are the best._ In bed. John reads proudly.

“What?! That can’t possibly be what that says.” Sherlock squawks.

“Haven’t you ever done that? Added _in bed_ to the end of fortune cookies?,” John says with a tilt of his head, “It works almost every time.”

“Not that I can recall, no.” Sherlock narrows his eyes at John.

“Open one and read it.”

“Really John, _You are soon going to change your present line of work._ In bed. Didn’t work there unless there’s the implication that I would honestly want to become a prostitute.” 

John can only laugh at scowl of confusion on Sherlock’s face, but he continues. “Here’s another _The greatest risk is not taking one_ in bed.” He nods and gestures for Sherlock to continue the game.

“ _You are very talented in many ways_ in bed. Oh well that’s…”

“ _Luck is coming your way_ in bed. Well I certainly hope so.” John says raising an eyebrow.

“ _A short stranger will soon enter your life with blessings to share._ In bed. Well you’re not a stranger anymore are you John?” Sherlock asks staring directly at John. 

“What?!”

“You corrected Angelo when he assumed you were my date.” Sherlock continues to study John. 

“Yes because we weren’t on a date.” John says exasperated. With a pause that could have enclosed an entire conversation if it was judge by the shift in Sherlock’s shoulders.

“I didn’t.” he finally says.

“Oh, right.” Realization dawns on John’s face and he leans back in his chair.

“John I may be dealing with loss of memory but I do have to ignore some things in order to function. Since the first day that we met I’ve had to ignore my intense desire of you. I’ve had to ignore the way that you look at me. I’ve had to ignore your unnecessary sense of chivalry manifested in you inaction of your desire to have me romantically. It is tiresome and tedious and this game with the fortune cookies as a clumsy attempt at seduction is exhausting. You are not taking advantage of me. Don’t you think we’ve been polite enough?” Sherlock rests his hand on John’s wrist squeezing it lightly.

“Sherlock, I…” 

“Kiss me John. Prove that I haven’t made a truly mortifying mistake.” Sherlock begs leaning slightly closer.

John stares for a second at the pale face before him. He sees apprehension, worry, and fear of rejection. Sherlock slowly removes his hand and lowers his eyes are, his mouth a thin line. John closes his eyes at his own ignorance of how Sherlock felt about him. 

“Sherlock” is all John says before he pulls Sherlock to him by the back of his head. Their lips meeting softly. 

Sherlock sighs pulling away slightly forehead resting against John’s.

“Well..then...look at us two, you risk your life to prove you’re clever.” John finally says.

“And you invaded Afghanistan.” Sherlock smiles.

The two men laugh quietly and share heated kisses till the waitress clears her throat at their table and yanks their plates away.

“I believe we should excuse ourselves and,” kiss “continue this somewhere else.” Sherlock grumbles.

“I guess we won’t be needing two bedrooms now?” John stands and straightens his jacket.

“If you want John..I won’t rush you” Sherlock says standing and tugging his t-shirt back down.  
John stares at Sherlock in disbelief. 

“You mentioned finding us a room somewhere”

“John..”

“Anything Sherlock. We either sleep, and only sleep. Or we don’t. I’m rather hoping for the second option, but if you’re tired...hfmffs” John has to stop when Sherlock grabs him by his coat collar into another kiss.

“Let’s go.” Sherlock growls, slapping down money and grabbing John’s arm and pulling him towards the exit.

* * *

Later the two men are curled naked under the sheets in a ridiculously luxurious room for being found last minute. Sherlock is flat on his back one arm thrown above him, John is curled on his side, lips pressed against his shoulder, leg thrown Sherlock’s.

“Promise me something Sherlock.” he whispers quietly.

“hmm?” 

“Promise you won’t cast me aside the moment you begin remembering your life.” John pleads with his eyes closed. He is aware how needy he sounds, but after holding back for so long he can’t help but feel vulnerable.

“John what nonsense are you talking about?” Sherlock turns, placing a hand at John’s waist.

“Sherlock you have to look at this from my perspective, you are brilliant and attractive and…” he is stopped by Sherlock putting a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh. a wise man told me once to be the man I am, not the man I was.”

“Shmff” John tries.

“I’m not finished. I am a man who doesn’t want a life without John Watson. IF I ever remember those missing years, it will be a tragedy because you were not there. Trust me John I’m not going to abandon the one person who has made me feel normal. I love you, should be quite obvious.” Sherlock continues then finally removes his hand to cup John’s jaw.

“You love me?” John blinks quickly.

“You don’t have to say it back. Of course, I know that you love me, you show me when you bring me my perfectly made tea without me asking, when you remind me to go to my therapy sessions, when you save the raspberry filled cookies because you know that they’re my favorite. 

“I’ll say it anyway. I love you Sherlock.” John says leaning forward to kiss Sherlock lightly.

“John we could have had this much sooner you know.” Sherlock says again pulling their foreheads together keeping his eyes closed.

“Yeah?” John murmurs. He runs his hand up and down Sherlock’s flank, reassuring his partner that everything is okay.

“Well I knew from the moment I was fully conscious that you found me attractive.” Sherlock pulls back with a sly smile.

“Is that so?” John grins back.

“Of course. You are many things John Watson, but subtle about attraction is not one of them.”

John can’t help the bubble of laughter that escapes him. Sherlock’s deductions about him in this early morning bewilder him as always. He smiles and presses a kiss to his neck.

“I was afraid. Of hurting you, of taking advantage. I can’t read people’s minds like you can. If you were wondering, I knew you were attracted to me when you told me the color of my pants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was really hard for me. I struggled with using info and dialogue from the episodes without bogging everything down with rehashing. That being said I added some info to fill some holes for myself, like how did Sherlock know what was going on during the press conference, and I personally feel that after the pilot - Study in Pink, Sherlock and John if not banged, made out like teenagers. So, that being said, next chapter will sort of slide into Blind Banker, but with a twist. The next update will be again, long in coming since I have ideas, but haven't written a word.
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://brokenlibrarygirl.tumblr.com)I reblog a lot of fan art, personal stuff, and Sherlock / Benedict Cumberbatch.


	11. A final non-chapter / update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I've made the decision to create and continue this work as a series. John and Sherlock confessing their feelings and ending on an intimate note feels like a good place for a break. 
> 
> I can't get to a good head space since April to continue this story in a timely manner.

So I've made the decision to create and continue this work as a series. John and Sherlock confessing their feelings and ending on an intimate note feels like a good place for a break. 

I can't get to a good head space since April to continue this story in a timely manner.

I apologize to everyone who has subscribed and waited patiently for an update. I grovel at the feet of

[EllieSaxon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieSaxon/profile)

who had this idea / head canon and to whom I've gifted this to and worked hard to please. 

I hope to continue this story in the next couple of months. So subscribe to the series and we'll see how this all plays out.


End file.
